


Save Myself

by make_this_feel_like_home



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rich Louis, SO. MUCH. ANGST., Slow Burn, Student Harry, Suicide Attempt, i suck with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 219,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/make_this_feel_like_home/pseuds/make_this_feel_like_home
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is a train wreck. That is a way of putting it lightly. His whole world is a vast blur of darkness and bad decisions and it doesn't matter how many times he decides he's done, he always falls back in, because darkness is tricky like that for him. Louis wants for nothing—has everything he could ever ask for really, but it's all nothing. Maybe he needs to be rescued—maybe he can't be rescued. No one knows.Or the one where Louis is a spoiled rich kid who is ignored by his entire family, who's friends only use him as a means for drugs and no one believes he's worth any more than just that. Harry Styles is a first year university student who's just moved to Doncaster for their theatre program who just happens to get the short straw when he'd partnered with Louis for Bio Lab. What could go wrong?





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> ****Disclaimer****
> 
> This is a work of fiction and in no way does it represent any of the actual people who's namesakes I've used for my characters. I have turned Louis' family into a bunch of assholes and use other characters as PLOT DEVICES. These are SO not my actual opinions of the people named here. Just had to clear that up. 
> 
> This story is long, dark and slow-burning, so buckle up. 
> 
> ....
> 
> Louis’ character was inspired by a girl I’ve met a few times, but he’s definitely also evolved of his own fruition. This story has been a labour of love with a character who’s soul has taken a piece or two of mine during the writing process. It’s not perfect (especially given I always edit while half asleep in my haste to post chapters) but it is probably one of the things in my life I’ve worked the hardest at. 
> 
> The title for thing is taken from Ed Sheeran's song 'Save Myself' which is 100% dead on Louis life.
> 
> I hope you enjoy xx
> 
> You can talk to me on instagram @feels.like.home01 or on Tumblr make-thisfeellikehome 
> 
> :)
> 
>  
> 
> "Life can get you down, so I just numbed the way it feels  
> Drown it with a drink and out of date prescription pills  
> and all the ones that loved me, they just left me on the shelf  
> no farewell,  
> So before I save someone else, I've got to save myself"

Louis Tomlinson is a train wreck. That is a way of putting it lightly. His whole world is a vast blur of darkness and bad decisions. It doesn't matter how many times he decides he's done, he always falls back in, because darkness is tricky like that for him. Louis wants for nothing—has everything he could ever ask for really, but it's all nothing. Maybe he needs to be rescued—maybe he can't be rescued. No one knows, least of all, Louis.  

Years ago he'd read a Stephen King novel with the line _hello, darkness, my old friend,_ repeated endlessly through it from start to finish. This he can agree with. This he understands, because his own life is the same way. It's so easy to slip back into darkness when it's kind of all he's ever known. So it's become his mantra. He greets the darkness when it comes, because it’s the only constant he's known. He's accepted it for what it is.  

Nearly four years ago, when he was just sixteen, was the first time he'd decided that he was done. He was ready to beg his mother for a way out, but she'd stopped noticing that he needed help. For the second time in Louis's life, she'd let her new boyfriend, new kids, eclipse Louis. Maybe he should learn to accept these things. He supposed, if he'd had a child like himself, he'd probably want to keep trying until he got it right. Until he was able to prove to himself that he _could_ do it right, despite the one glaring example of imperfection he was forced to stare at every day.  

Louis was born into excess, that much is true. His grandfather was the most wealthy person in Doncaster. He owned real estate across the town and some kind of international mining company that Louis didn't have a real clue about. All he knew was that money had never been an object. His grandfather gave them everything, doting on his daughterand grandchildren excessively. Louis had honestly never known what it was like to really _want_ something, because his every whim was always met.  

Louis' mum was only 19 when she'd had him. His father was just some guy who was in it for the money. He left before Louis could really remember. Which, maybe isn't the most remarkable story in the world. Plenty of people had dead-beat dads. That didn't really explain how Louis became the way he was. It wasn't a very good excuse. Then again, Louis never tried to make excuses.  

When he was five, his mother got married and changed his last name to match her new one. Louis didn't mind his step-father. He wasn't inherently a bad person, but he'd stolen his mother. That was pretty unforgivable if Louis was honest. When his first sister was born, that's when things got bad. Louis was pushed into the background, a left over from his mother's former life. A constant reminder of the mistakes that she'd made as a teenager. He didn't fit in with the picture that Mark and his mother were trying to paint. So they pushed him back and kept replacing him with sister after sister until there was four of them and they outnumbered his mum's past. They gave Louis every single thing he asked for aside from their attention and affection. He'd never fit in. He'd never really been a Tomlinson, despite his name. Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy and Phoebe? _They_ were Tomlinsons. _They_ were sisters, same mum, same dad. They were born into a life where, even as things fell apart, they were sisters. They always had each other. They never paid much attention to their old brother. No one did.  

And then, about four years ago, his mother left Mark and married Dan. It all happened really quick. Louis was sixteen, and he was really starting to fall apart. He was on drugs— _so_ _many drugs_ —and he was scared and lonely and the people surrounding him were probably just there because he had the money to support their habits. He wanted help. He wanted out. He wanted someone to love him unconditionally, but his mother had all but forgotten him. Again, she pushed him aside and brought another set of twins into the world. They took up everyone's time. Lottie, Fizzy Daisy and Phoebe were all obsessed. No one noticed just how lost Louis had become.  

That was until he stated to embarrass everyone. Then his mother was forced to acknowledge him. He was a proper mess. Nothing original or special. Just another rich kid who had everything but complained that it wasn't enough. He kept doing taking. He kept making stupid mistakes. He'd drink and drive his 'friends' around everywhere they wanted. He was arrested a few times, mostly for petty drug charges. Nothing ever came of it, and his mother always bailed him out.  

Yeah, Louis was a train-wreck. It was a simple fact. And he hurt. He hurt a lot, but he was exceptional at suffering on his own. So, he was never really a Tomlinson, he'd never be a Deakin and he was lost, lost, lost.  

He was in his third year of Uni—taking mostly first year classes because he normally flunked everything he took. He didn't go to school much. He liked lectures and all, but it was never enough of an incentive for him to attend them. If he was honest, he'd much rather stay in his room and read poetry and sip tea until the wee hours of the morning. Reading was the only thing that had ever really held his interest. He liked to escape (hence the excessive drug use). But more often than not, he'd chosen his friends over the things that actually brought him joy, simply because they asked him to, and that almost made him feel wanted (even if he was intelligent enough to know they just wanted him to buy them drugs). 

On that particular night, that was exactly what Louis was gearing up to do. Matt had texted him asking for a ride to a rave across town where they apparently had the best MDMA in town. Louis liked MDMA. It was probably his favourite drug. He wasn't really _addicted_ though, not anymore. He was kind of tired of the whole scene. Most of the time, now, he just waited around until his friends wanted a ride to the next party or needed him to buy pizza at four AM.  

Louis didn't _like_ his life, but it was his. It was what he knew. These were the people who searched him out and asked for him in ways that his family never had. It made him feel wanted, and that's really all Louis wanted. He'd snort anything, drink anything, drive people around in the middle of the night if they asked him to, because he was pathetic. Pathetic and desperate and lonely. He was lonely in a house full of nine people and parties full of hundreds of others. He didn't really have a clue what he was doing.  

He opened the door to his bedroom and flew down the stairs quickly. Normally he slipped by his family easily without them noticing. They always ate dinner at 7, which is what they were doing now. They never invited Louis to the dinner table. They were probably afraid he'd corrupt his sisters, one of which was officially a teenager. She was now particularly susceptible to corruption. He tried to slide carefully passed them without word, but when he reached the front door and reached for his keys, he realized they weren't on the hook. This was odd, because he always put them back (he had a horrible habit of losing everything and vowed that the keys to his Mercedes would never be one of those things).  

"Louis?" He heard his mother's voice, and the whole thing was odd. Where were his keys, and why was his mother trying to engage him during her precious family dinner time? His palms felt sweaty, he wiped them on his jeans, tension in all  of his limbs.  

Rationally, he knew that this was probably just another intervention of some sort (they did this every few months) but he still felt uneasy.  

"Come in here, would you?" His mother beckoned.  

He walked uneasily to the dining room, his heart hammering in his chest. Honestly, he didn't know what he wanted, but he knew it wasn't this. It wasn't this life, this awful rerun that looped over and over. He was sick to death of everything in his life. He stood then, in the threshold of the dining room, his mum standing now and his siblings and Dan filing out of the room. Oh, god. It _was_ an intervention, wasn't in? 

"Louis, we need to talk," she said softly, which was odd, because his mother rarely afforded him such dignity as pretending to care about how he felt.  

"Where are my keys?" His voice was mechanical. Rationally, he didn't care about his keys, but people expected things of him and he was well rehearsed at giving people what they expected.  

"I took them," 

They were nothing alike, his mother and him. She was a princess, always working hard to exceed everyone's expectations. Louis, on the other hand, was a mutilated verson of the person he'd been made into. He'd been squished into mold after mold and he hadn't properly fit any of them. He's failed at being a golden child, failed at making real solid friendships and though he'd grown up sort of infamous, he'd become accustomed to being over looked. He kicked against everything around him, choosing anonymity in his family and favouring his self created shadow in the rest of his life. He didn't know who he really was, though. Maybe he was none of those things, or maybe he was both. Maybe he'd never know.  

"Why?" He didn't care. Not really. Honestly, he'd be just as content to go back upstairs and read for the rest of the night, but that's not what she expected, so he adjusted. 

"I found pills in your laundry," 

He stared down at her. Louis wasn't tall by any stretch, but he felt like he towered over his mother. He didn't like it. He didn't like to feel intimidating. He blinked down at her three times before she spoke again.  

"Why do you keep taking drugs, Louis?" 

That was a loaded question. Why _did_ he keep taking drugs? He didn't particularly care for it, not anymore. And to be fair, he rarely dabbled anymore. That's why the pills ended up in his jumper! He'd pretended to take them and sat back, watching everyone else trip out. They'd only ended up there because I _didn't_ take them. Ironic, wasn't it?  

"I like it, I suppose," he said then, still looking down at his mother's tiny face, wishing that maybe she care enough to realize that he wasn't the person she thought he was. He wasn't even the person he thought he was. No one had a clue who Louis was. He wished his mother could see passed the front he put on for the rest of the world and see that he was crying out for her. That he needed her to love him the way no one else ever had. He needed someone to prove that he was worth something more than what he'd grown so used to. He wanted to be saved, and he _really_  wanted his mother—his only real family—to be the one to finally see through him. To prove that he hadn't wasted his entire life waiting for her love and approval, that maybe it was there all along. Wasn't parental love supposed to be unconditional? What a joke that was. Louis had learned the hard way from a very young age that _nothing_ in life was unconditional.  

"Louis, you have sisters, little sisters who look up to you," he sputtered a small laugh as she said that. They'd kept his sisters far away from him for years. They probably didn't even know his real last name. Funny, innit? "You can't bring drugs into this house. I can't let you drive, Louis. You're out of control," 

He didn't say anything else, he just nodded slowly, waiting for his mother to release him from this conversation that he in no way asked to have. Eventually she broke their eye contact and turned away from him, following after Dan and his siblings.  

"You disappoint me, Louis," 

Yeah, well, that wasn't news. That was a fact that Louis had been aware of for longer than he could really remember. He'd kind of been thrust into disappointment from the day he was born as a bastard child to a woman who just wanted everyone else to think her life was pretty. He was never going to measure up to his adorable younger siblings who had never done anything wrong. That would never be him. He had accepted that.  

But it didn't hurt any less when he mother reminded him. They were her first words to him in probably a week. Just when Louis was thinking that maybe he was becoming a little less fucked up and a little more balanced.  

Oh, well, such was the life of Louis whatever-his-real-last-name-should-be. 

"Night, mum," he said walking out the front door. He might not have had his car, but there was always a driver at his beck-and-call, and that would suffice.  

*** 

It was four A.M. and Louis was in some abandoned warehouse, music blasting so loud he could see the pages of the book he was reading shake. He was reading Dante's Inferno for maybe the eighth time that year. Silently, he wondered what circle of hell he was in now. He wondered if maybe all of the mistakes he'd made in his life were him walking through some of the circles. Maybe he was halfway to Lucifer by now, or maybe he was just second-hand high on the meth Matt had smoked next to him awhile back.  

Matt was Louis' closest friend. He wasn't much, really, when Louis looked back at the whole thing. Matt was a grown-up kid from foster housing who never really had a real shot at life. He was a reckless drug addict and had dragged Louis through more than one circle of hell. They'd met when Louis was 14 or so and it had been a match made in...well, hell.  

See, the truth was, Louis was smart in his own way. He mostly saw things for how they really were. Matt had been a horrible choice, but he had also been the first guy to ever really pay attention to Louis in the way he wanted as a 14 year old boy. Sure, Louis never had a lack of people offering to be his friend. His family was well known. People knew he was wealthy and generous. He'd spent most of his life trying to gain friends that way. People had always used him a lot. He didn't mind so much, least of all when Matt did it, because in all honesty, he could afford his friend's habits and he really wanted the attention and the companionship.  

Sometimes, when Matt got high, he would lay back and let Louis read him excerpts of whatever book he was devouring at the time. That kind of felt like friendship to Louis, and Matt gave him other things too. He gave him release.  

In the beginning it was just rushed handjobs and sloppy kisses in between hits of whatever drug they could find that day. It was all dark and primal and sometimes Matt told Louis he loved him, and sometimes Louis was high enough to believe it. Most of the time though, Louis saw it for what it was. It was just a horrible, shameful display from a boy who was even more fucked up than him. Matt probably didn't love him, and Louis probably didn't love Matt, but they had each other, and that was something. That was something more than anyone else had given him.  

It wasn't all sunshine and butterflies, though, because Matt was angry. He hated to be let down. Sometimes he took drugs that turned him into a monster than Louis rationalized could only belong in the ninth circle of hell.  

But, then again, even with his enormous family, Matt was all he had. So for a lot of years, he'd get high with him and let him fuck him until he bled or let him use Louis as his personal punching bag. Louis knew how to handle other people's anger well. He knew how to shrink in on himself and wait for the storm to pass. Besides, being alone would be the only thing worse than dealing with Matt's violent streak, so it was a small price to pay for companionship.  

 

Yeah, Louis was a bit fucked up but he honestly believed there was no changing this. He had insight. He had survival skills. He was aware of every single dumb thing he did but there was no way for him to stop. It had been an incredible journey on this downward spiral and he was no quitter. He'd probably end up ODing in a shady hotel room next to Matt.  

 

He didn't really care much. He didn't imagine anyone else would really care much. 

 

Meanwhile, as he sat in one of the circles of hell, underlining new parts of Dante's Inferno that appealed to him, he felt someone sit next to him. He glanced up momentarily, meeting Matts eyes—which were mostly pupil by that point in his high. Matt smiled at him sweetly and Louis almost remembered all of the initial reasons he'd fallen into this whole mess with him.  

 

"Always reading," he mused, running his fingers softly down Louis' neck.  

 

I a shiver ran down Louis spine, making his hair stand on end. It was all just desperate affection. Matt never meant anything by it. He needed an outlet and Louis was always willing.  

 

"Let's go away," said Matt, still trailing his fingers across Louis' skin. "It's been so long since you took me somewhere. Let's go to London for the week," 

 

Louis' gaze was trained on the same words on the page that he'd already read about 16 times since Matt sat next to him.  

 

"Classes start Monday," his voice was soft, shrunken, along with his posture.  

 

Matt's fingers no longer gently tickled Louis' skin. Instead, he grated his nails down Louis' neck harshly. 

 

"You're such a fucking joke," he said as an uneasy feeling dripped into Louis' stomach. "You've never even passed a class, who gives a fuck? You're not smart enough for uni, I wish you'd quit pretending. It just makes you look even more pathetic," 

 

And yeah. Okay. Those words hit home for Louis. Feeling pathetic was something he was quite used to. It was something he knew well and felt daily, but there was something to be said for other people seeing that he was pathetic. Louis liked to go unnoticed. It was his comfort zone. He didn't want anyone to have any opinion of him, positive or negative. The words settled into the parts of Louis that felt inadequate. And that was, essentially, all the parts of Louis.  

 

Was he supposed to argue? He'd chosen Matt and drugs and parties and impromptu holidays to London over his studies time and time again. Matt wasn't wrong to expect this of him. It was who Louis was. He was the drug addicted rich kid who gave his friends what they wanted. It wasn't the prettiest picture, but oblivion was so much more attractive to him than being the train wreck everyone could see. If he could just dig himself into a deep enough hole that everyone stopped noticing his mess, that would be ideal. If he tried enough, flooded his system with enough illicit substances maybe he could stop noticing that everyone noticed him.  

 

And those are the reasons why Louis was now sneaking into his mother and Dan's bedroom at 3 in the morning, praying that they hadn't changed the combination on the safe. He fiddled with the numbers while Matt lurked in the doorway. There were about a million problems with this situation. First of all, his mother had no idea that he knew the safe's combination, and he was about to blow it and forfeit any future opportunities to open it. Second, Matt was expressly banned from their home, on account of almost fist fighting Dan on several occasions.  

 

But, to Louis' relief, the safe opened on the first try and he reached in the pluck out the keys to his Mercedes.  

 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suicide trigger warning on this chapter!
> 
> Sorry this took me ages to finish. I always have a really hard time getting passed the first chapters in a new story. I'm starting, now, to get to know my characters better, so I hope more updates will be coming soon--that and that fact that I am getting a new Macbook next week!!! 
> 
> In other news I got tickets to two Ed Sheeran shows this summer--so I'm basically winning at life.

There was a banging on the door. It was intense and angry and Louis was scared. He was sitting on the ground in the shower and all the hot water had run out, but he hadn't turned it off. He was just sitting there, shivering and sobbing. He wasn't really bleeding anymore, he'd washed most of it off, and now he was just taking his time, trying to decide what to do next. He hurt. He was hurting in probably as many ways as someone could hurt. There were literal claw marks across his hip bones and down his back. They'd burned at first from the water, but now he was too cold to notice. His whole body was shaking and he wasn't sure if it was because he was frozen or because he was sobbing loudly and unabashedly.  

His bum hurt, Matt had fucked him raw with nothing but his spit as lube. He'd been bleeding when he'd first gotten into the shower, but he'd desperately tried to scrub the shame and the hatred from his body. Nothing really made him feel clean though. He was ruined. There was no real way for Louis to scrub off that level of dirt and self loathing.  

It wasn't just his body, it was his insides. He hurt deep and it ached inside him. There was something to be said for the constant reminders of just how shit he was. Matt was never shy. He never missed an opportunity to remind Louis just how pathetic and worthless he was. _You're lucky you're rich because you'd never have any friends._ They weren't new words, they were weapons that Matt had thrown in Louis' direction countless times, but they always resonated. Nobody loved Louis. His family couldn't care less about the messes he got himself into. Matt was a liar. He only loved Louis when he needed things, when it was his last resort. The words always had Louis running back, though, because, truly and honestly, more than he wanted anything else in the world, he wanted those words. He wanted to believe that someone could really mean them. He wanted to be loved.  

Sure, someone actually meaning them would be ideal, but it was unlikely. Louis was a worn-out pathetic excuse for a person. No one could love that, not really.  

It seemed like an endless cycle for him. He was trapped, his life was spinning out of control. No matter how many times he tried to steer it back on track, something happened that just dug him in further. There was no way out of this place he'd made for himself. He was hopeless.  

No one wanted him when he was the numbed version of himself, taking every kind of drug he could find, and no one had wanted him before that. He'd been ignored and overlooked his entire life. Nothing could change that. No matter how loudly Louis screamed, no matter how many forests he set ablaze in his wake, _nobody saw him._ He was doomed to a life of obscurity.  

He could hear Matt now, screaming and yelling and pounding on the bathroom door. He didn't know how long he had before the door gave out. He didn't know how much longer he could seek solice in the freezing stream of water that was currently pouring of him, but he hoped it would last. Matt had to give up eventually. He always did.  

He was so _angry._ No matter how much Louis did for him, he always ended up in this place—fucked raw and hurting inside of his soul. It was an endless cycle, and maybe it was Louis' fault. Maybe if he had something real and tangible to offer Matt, he could have fixed him by now.  

Louis didn't want this. He was done. He'd been done for a long time and was just mechanically moving along through his life as people expected him to. He'd checked out years ago, and maybe it was high time that he stopped lying to himself and everyone else. Maybe he was done pouting and aching and wishing for something more. He knew better than everyone that there was no getting better. Without the drugs, all he'd have was to face the reality of his loneliness. There was no winning here. This wasn't a life. This wasn't something anyone would want to be a part of.  

He sobbed wildly, wishing for the pounding on the door to stop. He was at a crossroads now. Something was going to drastically change the second that he was able to leave the bathroom. He couldn't be this person. Not for another second.  

The pounding stopped and Louis felt a cold fear drip into his gut. Maybe Matt had found a key. Maybe he'd be springing through the door in half a second and destroying what little bit of Louis was left. Horror was the only thing he could feel.  

Matt's voice came slow and gritty through the bathroom door and the stream of the shower.  

"You're pathetic Louis. You can't even stand up for yourself. It's disgusting. You disgust me," 

Shame sunk into Louis' chest and made the rest of his body flush with self-loathing.  

And that was it. Silence sunk into the air in the hotel room. Slowly, he reached out and turned off the tap and the flow of icy water stopped. He listened carefully, but he couldn't hear anything. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, shivering deeply. He was still crying, because the only thing that could be more terrifying that Matt openly seeking him out in anger was the potential that he was tricking Louis.  

It was cold. It was so cold and Louis wanted to leave the bathroom and head back outside into the summer sun and feel something other than misery. But that was a crock. Misery was his destiny. Misery was the only thing he knew how to feel.  

So he started counting. It was the only way he could think to track how much time was passing. He counted to sixty seventeen times. He still hadn't heard a peep from Matt. There were options here. Matt count have been waiting him out. He could have been waiting to hurt him more, and as immune as he normally was, Louis didn't think he could take much more. He didn't want to be Matt's punching bag. But he could have just as easily lost interest. He could have been shooting more heroin, walking the streets of London, all thoughts of Louis forgotten (Louis was easy to forget).  

Slowly, Louis towel dried himself and picked up his clothes from the floor. He was still shivering, and the jumper he pulled on chafed against the scratches on his back as he tugged it on. He winced a bit, still listening for any movement beyond the sanctuary of the locked bathroom door. He didn't hear anything. The urge to run was strong. He wanted to get away, even though he'd been in this very spot countless times and had always chosen to bring himself back to it. He didn't really have a lot of options though. If he was honest, more than anything he just wanted to escape. He didn't want to continue living his life here, but he also didn't really want to go back to the emptiness of his family either. They didn't care, and it burned in his guts every time he thought of it. They didn't care that his entire living was burning down around him. They didn't care that Matt beat him up and that he'd gotten really good at hiding his best friend's messes. Maybe if they knew the extent of what was going on, they'd help him. He'd thought that once, but they didn't care enough to listen. They never asked.

Slowly, Louis unlocked the door, praying Matt didn't hear the lock turn. He slowly pulled the door open, listening carefully for any sign of movement. Instantly he felt flight click in. He couldn't do this. Not for another second. He was going to run like he'd never ran before. He was going to run from it all because the darkness had trapped him. There wasn't a way out, not really. He turned the corner and saw Matt lying on his back, spread out like a starfish across the bed. He wasn't moving, didn't pay any attention to Louis at all as he tip-toed slowly passed him. There was a needle still hanging out of his arm, the heroin high had hit him hard and now he was passed out, perfectly still and Louis couldn't have picked a better moment for his escape.

Slowly, he crept around the bed and picked up Matt's rucksack. He fished through the front pockets until his fingers wrapped around a bottle. He pulled it out slowly, still aiming for silence. He looked down at the bottle in his palm, filled halfway with some kind of pills. Honestly, he didn't have a sweet clue what they were. Matt had stolen them out of some lady's purse at the train station. "Lorazepam" is what the label read. Matt had assured him it was a nice downer, a way to sit back and enjoy being high in a mellow sort of way. Louis didn't care. He'd always fancied prescription pills because he never knew what to expect. This time, though, he had other plans. He didn't care about the trip. He cared that the bottle was half full and there were tons of tiny orange pills inside of it. He grabbed his own backpack then, reaching inside and pulled out his wallet. He grabbed all the cash inside and counted it quickly. It was just over £300. He tossed it on the bed next to Matt, who still hadn't moved or groaned, or given any sort of indication that he would wake up and see Louis.

Louis inhaled deeply, fear rumbling in his stomach and he reached out to Matt, turning his body over slowly so he was on his stomach. Matt usually got sick when he shot heroin. As much as a monster as the man could be, Louis didn't want anything bad to happen to him. Thankfully, Matt didn't wake up, so Louis took his leave. He found his car keys on the dresser, next to a baggie full of heroin. Matt would do anything, but he always happily announced that London had the best heroin. It kind of amazed Louis that throughout all the years they'd run wild together that Matt had become addicted to everything and that Louis had effectively become addicted to nothing. It was strange and ironic, and of the two of them, Louis should have been the one who had people that cared about him, but there was no one. Just the fact that he cared about Matt, set Matt ahead in that respect. He might not have had a family, but Louis cared enough to make up for that fact. Matt, however, frankly didn't give a flying fuck if Louis lived or died, and that was something he had in common with every other person who'd ever known Louis.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and dropped his room key next to the drugs and closed the door quickly behind him. He flew down the staircase quickly, fearing if he waited for the lift that Matt might wake up and find him and change his resolve completely. He didn't want that. He knew what he needed to do and he was very aware that in the grand scheme of things it was going to make very little difference to the people in his life. Quickly, he approached the front desk, handing the lady his Visa and paying for the room for the next week. Call Louis what you would, but he would never let anything intentionally bad happen to Matt.

He fled the building then, dashing toward his Mercedes. He didn't know where he'd go. Maybe he'd just drive in the general direction of Doncaster so it wouldn't be a horrible inconvenience to whomever found him. So, as he sat behind the wheel, he fiddled with the bottle of pills in his pocked. His hands were shaking and he wasn't sure if it was because of anticipation or fear, but he figured it was likely a mixture of both. Somehow, Louis had managed to stretch this moment out for 20 years. 20 years of no one in his life knowing a single thing about him. 20 years of no one caring enough to ask if he needed help. If he needed to be loved. And it was all just a bit much. Louis didn't feel _bad_ for himself. He just felt done. He'd tried it, but nothing about him appealed to anyone and if he was honest, he didn't care about himself much either. It was all kind of like a big joke. He'd been forced into a mold that he'd never fit and no one was willing to make an exception and love him anyway, and really, he was a human being. He needed to be loved. It was that simple.

And so, somewhere on the side of the highway, Louis started to swallow the pills.

 

***

 

Waking up from a serious mental break down, wasn't really like Louis imagined it would be. It was more like a series of people with pity in their eyes and serious levels of embarrassment. If Louis had hated attention before, the feeling was increased tenfold now. There were nurses and doctors and social workers buzzing around him constantly and he'd only been awake for approximately one hour. It was horrendous. There were dozens of questions. People poking at him and taking tests and just _looking_ at him and the depth of shame he'd felt while trying to scrub the evils of Matt off of him was nothing compared to what it was like to see pity after pity in the eyes of the hospital employees.

There was only one real surprise, here. And that was the soft, sad blue eyes of his oldest sister, Lottie. She'd been sitting in the corner of the room for who knew how long, watching him as the nurses hovered and the doctors asked him questions he wasn't keen on answering. Eventually though, the crowds slowed and Louis pulled the blankets over his face, trying to hide from the pressure of the world around him. It was all more than a bit too much. He didn't want to be here; to be _alive_. He didn't want to see the sadness in his sister's eyes and the judgement in all these strangers eyes. Poor rich kid, Louis, had everything but everything wasn't enough. His life wasn't original, or authentic, really. It was just a sad rerun of soap opera after soap opera.

He closed his eyes, hidden under the sheets that smelled of too much bleach and scratched at his skin a bit too much to be comfortable. He wanted, at the very least to no longer be awake. If he had to face this giant pity party, he was going to spend as much time as possible unconscious. But someone else felt differently. He felt a light tap on his shoulder. The room was dead silent, save for the soft, scared voice that accompanied the touch.

"Louis?" Lottie's voice shook a bit with her words, undoubtedly due to the fact that she didn't have much practice addressing her older brother.

Effectively, they were strangers. But her voice was soft and sad and Louis felt guilt. For whatever reason, which Louis may never understand, his actions had affected her. He didn't like that. Slowly, he pulled the sheet down so his eyes met hers. _Sad_ , they were so sad and he needed to make that go away.

"Are you okay?"

She was so soft and so innocent and so genuine that Louis felt like a giant monster put on this earth for nothing more than destroying pure hearts like his sister's. Her question, though. It was a lot. It was a lot more than he was really ready to answer. Physically, he supposed he was probably alright. Not fantastic, but he'd survived, hasn't he? Maybe his body was stronger than his mind. Shame, really, because Louis didn't have a clue now how to kill his body or his mind or if he could live with himself while Lottie had _that_ look on her face. So, he shrugged.

She stayed quiet a long time, crouching next to his bed, her eyes never leaving his. Absently he wondered who'd brought her here, why she was the only one here, and why she seemed so genuinely upset by the whole thing.

"Mum said you over-dosed,"

Of course. _Of fucking course_ Louis was try to kill himself only to have his completely blind mother assume that it was something else entirely. That made his skin burn a bit with anger. Still, though, Lottie's eyes didn't leave his and they were so sincere that Louis felt himself spewing words that he didn't even think through.

"I tried to kill myself," he said, "I over dosed, yeah, but not because I'm dumb. I wanted to die,"

Her eyes turned glassy then, and he watched a tear trickle down her cheek. "I didn't know you were sad," she sniffled, "you're my brother and I didn't even know you enough to know you were sad,"

"'S not your job, Lots," 

 

She pressed her lips tightly together and Louis saw the bottom one tremble and he'd definitely never felt like this before. He'd never felt so bad about his actions. He didn't know that something he did could do that to her. He didn't realize that Lottie would care. It was the last thing he expected.  

His heart felt heavy and sad in his chest because he felt pretty sure that he'd meant it. That he'd wanted to die and even though it hadn't worked, he still sort of wished it had and that just made him feel worse. Because what if he did die? Lottie was this sad and he'd only  _tried_.  

She held his hand then, tight, and just stared at him. She looked like she had about a million things she wanted to say, but he didn't say any of them.  

Soon, though, Louis found himself gripping back. He squeezed her hand in an attempt to take away some of the sadness in her eyes. The smallest, almost completely unnoticeable smile brushed her lips and Louis tried to return it. He wasn't really sure how to smile properly, but his poor sister deserved at least an effort on his part.  

He heard someone clear their throat loudly and Lottie and Louis both looked to the door and saw their mum standing with her arms crossed.  

"It's time to go now, Lottie," 

The sadness made its way back into Lottie's eyes and she looked back to Louis.  

"Can I come see you tomorrow?" Her voice was so timid, it made Louis' heart lurch a bit with each syllable.  

He nodded, he didn't know why. Didn't know what they might talk about. Didn't know why she'd want to come to the mental hospital two days in a row, or why she wanted to comfort him at all. But, still he nodded.  

She stood then, not letting go of his hand. She hesitated a moment before she spoke again.  

"Promise?" 

The room felt cold then. Her eyes were intense as she searched his face. It didn't just feel like a "promise". It was a loaded question. Lottie was asking him if he'd still be alive tomorrow. She was pleading with him to make her a promise that he would still be there tomorrow and that was a weight that Louis was completely unused to carrying. He didn't like the idea of making this promise, because if he could close his eyes and never wake up again? He'd probably do it.  

But her eyes didn't leave his and she paid no attention to the impatient woman who was tapping her foot loudly as she watched their exchange. Her eyes sparkled with un-shed tears and Louis really couldn't allow himself to be the person to break this girl's heart. So he nodded.

"Promise,"

It was only one day. Just one more day after the thousands he'd already lived through. He could make her this promise because he wasn't a monster. He couldn't crush her like that. He couldn't shoulder that responsibility. 

She gave him a tight lipped smile, leaned down and kissed his cheek and then followed their mum out the door. 

 

***

 

It wasn't long after Lottie left that someone else appeared in the doorway of Louis silent room. She was extraordinarily tall and had long blonde hair. She looked like she was dressed for a fancy office job somewhere in downtown London, and if it wasn't for the the badge hanging on a lanyard around her neck, he would never have guessed that she worked here. She knocked softly and gave him her very best comforting smile and walked slowly into the room. She pulled up a chair and sat beside his bed and reached out her perfectly manicured hand toward Louis.  

"Hello, Louis, my name is Terri," Louis shook it quickly, avoiding her eyes.  

He didn't say anything, but her smile never faltered.  

"You must be wondering why I'm here," she spoke softly and everything about her was quiet and friendly and kind of deliriously happy and Louis was already more than a little exhausted with this fact.  

He shrugged.  

"Well, Louis, I'm a social worker and a counsellor and I'd like to just talk to you for a bit, if that's okay," 

Again he just shrugged.  

She smiled brightly at him, "I know it's a bit scary to be in a place like this, I don't blame you for not having much to say," 

Louis stared at his hands and adjusted the pillows behind himself. He wasn't scared, not really. He was just anxious. He still felt out of place, being alive and all. But he'd promised Lottie. He'd promised she could see him tomorrow and that was something. So, here he was with a clueless young super model turned social worker who probably didn't have the first clue about what darkness was really like.  

"So, Louis, there's been a bit of confusion about why you're here, so I'd just like to talk to you about that if that's okay,"  

He pulled at a hangnail on his ring finger, not looking at her. He guessed the confusion was about the fact that his mother didn't know that he barely used drugs enough to be capable of _accidentally_ over dosing. He shrugged again, signalling for her to continue.  

"Do you use drugs, Louis?" 

He nodded.  

"Regularly?"  

He figured they'd probably taken every sort of drug test on him while he'd been unconscious. She already knew the answer.  

"Check your charts," he was feeling sassy. This lady didn't know the first thing about him. Did she think she could save him? She didn't know the anything about Louis or his life. And she definitely didn't _look_ like the kind of person who had a clue. She looked, to be frank, like a bimbo. Louis refused to take her seriously because there was no way somebody like _her_ could help somebody like  _him_.  

"Well, I know you overdosed on lorazepam,"  

He nodded, not sure where she was going with this.  

"Your mother indicated that you being on drugs isn't a new thing," 

Again, he shrugged.  

"But your blood work suggested that it's been a long time since you've actually used anything else," 

Well, he was caught. She was probably going to ask him about his feelings now. Great.

"So I don't think it was an accident, Louis, you over dosing. I think you did it on purpose," 

He just stared at her then.  

"I'd like to talk to you about it, if you don't mind," 

"What if I do mind?" 

She looked at him softly then. She had pity in her eyes. Louis hated pity more than anything else, aside from attention.  

"Why did you try to kill yourself, Louis?" 

He didn't know how to answer that. He didn't want to, really. He didn't owe an explanation to anyone, let alone a blonde air-head stranger.  

She let his silence linger for an abnormal amount of time.  

"What happened, Louis, before you took those pills? Did somebody hurt you?" 

He raised an eyebrow at her. Her question was wildly out of the ordinary.  

"When you came in, there was evidence that looked like sexual assault," 

Oh. Louis felt his stomach fall out his arse. He was definitely not going to talk about _that_.  

He felt his face flush and the sickest, cruelest sort of embarrassment fluttered through him completely. He didn't know what could be worse, him admitting that he had given his consent, or letting her assume it had been an attack. They were both so pathetic. Of course someone as tiny and worthless as Louis would scream _victim_ from the top of his lungs. Of course they thought it was assault. Louis was pathetic and couldn't stand up for himself at all. He didn't blame anyone for making that assumption.  

But worse? Worse would be admitting that he let Matt do it because he was scared no one else would ever want to. Yep. These were things Louis would definitely not be talking to this airhead about.  

He couldn't look at her anymore.  

"Louis, you can be honest with me," 

It was so much easier to be angry. He wanted to be angry at this whole thing because he hadn't asked for this. He didn't want to be here, to be alive. He just wanted to succeed at something and it stung a bit that he'd continued to fail, even at something so simple as dying.  

"You don't know the first thing about me, or my sex life," he snipped the words short and glared down at his balled up fists as he spoke.  

She sighed softly and Louis just really wanted her to leave.  

Slowly, she rose from her seat and made her way toward the door. Disappointment fluttered into Louis' stomach. He hated it. He hated that in the last 3 minutes he'd somehow come up with some sort of expectation for this woman. He hated that it hurt him that he'd pushed her away so quickly. That even someone who was paid to sit there and listen to him didn't want to listen to him. Worthlessness burned a hole through his stomach lining and his organs caught on fire too.  

He wished, very surprisingly, that he could explain the level of hatred he felt for himself to this woman, just so he could make her burn the way he was.  

Surprisingly though, when she reached the door, she didn't walk out. She shut it quietly and then turned to look at Louis with one of the most sympathetic glances he'd ever seen. It was all a bit more than unnerving. She sat back in the chair by his bed.  

"I do know a lot about feeling worthless and making bad choices because you think that's the only option. I'd like to talk to you about it, maybe tell you about some of the things I went through, if you'd let me," 

He stared at her for a moment. The thing was, he had so much locked inside of him that letting any of it out would open the floodgates and probably drown him entirely. He wasn't really sure that it was a good idea to let even the smallest amount of it out. Aside from that, there was no evidence that he could trust this woman. She probably didn't have a clue how to handle someone like Louis.  

So he stayed quiet. He didn't agree to anything.  

"Look, Louis, most suicide attempts are a cry for help," her sentence sounded only a touch condescending, and Louis found himself offended and he nearly blew up again before she continued, "but there's nothing wrong with that—with needing help. I can't pretend I know the finer details, but I think you need someone to talk to. I think you need someone to tell you that it's okay to not be okay," 

Louis tried to swallow passed the lump in his throat, but he couldn't. His silence lingered, and Terri continued her monologue.  

"I also think you might need someone to tell you that you don't have to accept people treating you like crap. You don't have to keep saying yes because you did once, and yes to one thing is most definitely not an obligation to accepting abuse," 

 

*** 

 

The next day, when Louis opened his eyes (after maybe ccying himself to sleep with Terri's words on an endless loop in his head) the chair across the room was already occupied. Lottie's bright eyes were on him instantly. She watched as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, adjusting the pillows behind him.  

"Time is it?" He asked her through a yawn.  

"Half ten," she said, now standing and dragging the chair closer to his bed. He noticed a vase of daisies on the end table next to him, before he could question their origin, she spoke up.  

"I brought you those," she started, and everything they said to each other was draped in a bit of awkwardness, but it was _nice._ Louis didn't mind, and he didn't realize just how much he needed Lottie to be here, "I wasn't sure what your favourite flower was, so I brought you mine," 

Louis had never given it much thought. He'd never gotten flowers at all, honestly, never considered which ones he preferred. "I like daisies,"  

Lottie positively beamed at that, and without thinking about it, he found himself smiling back.  

"When did you get here?" He asked softly as she got comfortable in her chair.  

"Mum dropped me off on her way to work. 've been here since 8 or sommat," 

"Sorry I slept so long," said Louis immediately. 

Lottie was shaking her head fiercely, "No, you need to sleep. I want you to get better," 

She probably didn't have the first clue how impossible that task felt to Louis. He was completely unsure whether or not it was even a task he was up for. Maybe he didn't want to be better. Maybe he wanted to drown himself in oblivion. Maybe he still wanted to die.  

They were both silent again after that, like Lottie could read his thoughts. She seemed edgy and nervous, like there were a million things she wanted to know, but she had no idea how to speak to him. How to take him or read him, and Louis felt guilty. He'd been there her entire life, but they were strangers, and she clearly didn't want it to be like that. Had it been all his fault all along? 

"I'm sorry," the words fell out of his mouth before he had a chance to over think them.  

" _I'm_ sorry," her words came out like a challenge. Like she wanted to be the one who was better at apologizing, and yep. They were definitely related. She was head-strong an competitive.  

This time, his smile wasn't to satisfy her, it was completely natural. It kind of hurt the parts of his cheeks that it tugged at, but her returning smile was completely worth it. Her sad, worried look was no longer in her eyes. They were figuring each other out and it was kind of fucking incredible.  

"Well _I'm_ sorry that you got such a shit older brother," 

She scoffed then, favouring frustration over sadness, " _I'm_ sorry that I listened to other people instead of you. I'm sorry I didn't know you were sad and I'm sorry you had to almost die for me to tell you that I give a shit, because I _do,_ Louis. I _do_ give a shit about you, because you're my brother and I've only ever gotten everyone else's opinion, and I think they're all fucked," 

"You don't know that," he argued. 

"Yeah, I do know that, because you're good, Louis. I just know you are. Everyone in the whole world might be wrong about you, but I'm not going to be one of them. You kept your promise," 

"That doesn't make everyone else wrong, Lots, that might just make _you_ wrong," 

It was strange, this. They'd barely been siblings their entire lives, but they seemed to fall into this argument honestly. They scratched against each other just like family, with an unspoken devotion to each other under every strike they made against each other.  

She clenched her jaw tightly, narrowing her eyes at him, wanting to say hundreds of things, but she bit it back.  

"I haven't been a good person, let alone a good brother. You don't owe me anything," 

"You haven't been a _bad_ person, though, don't you see? You just haven't been there and I honestly don't think that's your fault," 

Maybe she was a bit right about that. In the beginning, he'd been pushed back just because of the presence of his sisters. He'd been ocver shadowed by younger, cuter babies and he'd adjusted to it in the strangest way. He'd never resented Lottie for it. He'd never made it about her at all. He'd just accepted the distance that set into his family and himself and let it happen. He hadn't raged, he'd barely even been sad. He'd locked it all away inside of him. It wasn't until he started experimenting with drugs that he'd even tapped into the resentment he had for his mother, and by that point his self hatred was too ingrained to even be properly mad at her. It was all a real disaster.  

"I shouldn't have taken drugs. That was my fault—my choice," he said, and she scooped up his hand again.  

"Whatever," she dismissed it, "mum should have been there for you. She's always been there for me and that's not fair," 

Oh, god. Feelings hurt Louis. They hurt a lot and she was attacking all of hers so quickly and honestly that it left Louis reeling. He needed time to process all of this. He needed... a lot of things. Most of which he didn't know. He didn't know how to make himself better for her sake, or if there was even any parts of him that were worth working on. Maybe he should just let it all go again. Maybe he should keep destructing so that he'd never have to face the mountain of hatred and disappointment and abandonment that lived inside of him. It was daunting and made Everest look like a simple day trip.  

 

*** 

 

It was two in the afternoon, and about ten minutes ago, Terri had interrupted Lottie and Louis' bonding (read: arguing time) to drag him upstairs to see her office. In comparison to yesterday, Louis was feeling surprisingly more alive. Maybe it was Lottie and their heated arguments over who was more wrong, or maybe it was just the time that had passed since his flirtation with death. Regardless, he could see better, breathe better and feel his body better than he had yesterday. Still, Louis remained undecided as to whether any of those things were and improvement or a hindrance to his ultimate self-sabatoge.  

Terri's office was how he'd imagined it would be. It was quiet and unassuming and there wasn't a chaise lounge or a couch in site. There were photos of her and some man in Rome, in front of the Eiffle Tower and on the London Eye. There were books upon books, but none of them were written by Freud and none of them were titled "so you tried to kill yourself an failed". Nothing was cheesy or distasteful—save for the bean bag chairs that sat together in front of the bookcase, but they fit somehow.  

She caught his eye as he stared at them and smiled, "Sometimes grown ups need to remember how to be silly the most," she said, throwing herself onto one of the beanbag chairs. She grinned up at him and it was so childish and foolish that Louis smiled despite himself. He worked hard to hide it from her, but she saw it.  

She motioned to the second chair and Louis rolled his eyes, sitting on it with a thud.  

"So Louis," she started, looking at him expectantly, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" 

"Are you a therapist or a guidence counsellor?"  

"I'm a chameleon, actually. A bit of this, a bit of that. I think maybe, you need me to be a guidance counsellor before you let me be something more," 

Louis made a non-commtial sound. She was strange. Everything she kept showing him contradicted the assumptions he'd made about her, and that was probably the most annoying part of this all.  

"So?" She said, watching him closely.  

"So, what?" 

"So, what do you want to be when you grow up?" 

Louis shrugged. He didn't know. He hadn't given it much thought. His uni career had been mostly a series of failures and he had long ago let go of the idea that he might graduate with purpose. Now, he just took classes so that he could buy the books his professors assigned. It was more like a book club to him than a serious life decision.  

"You're 20, Louis, surely you've given it some thought," 

He shook his head.  

"Well, what do you do in your spare time," 

"Drugs," 

"You're a horrible liar, Louis," 

"I'm not trying to lie," 

She sighed in annoyance with the way he avoided her questions and took a moment to regroup herself.  

"Okay," she said, her friendly tone returning, "let's try something else," she raked a hand through her hair, pulling it away from her face and studying Louis closely, "Who was the girl in your room when I came to get you?" 

"Lottie," he said, voice soft, but still holding suspicion, "my sister," 

Terri smiled then, "that's great, Louis, are you two close?" 

Louis shook his head. 

"Tell me more about your family," 

He shook his head, that was _defintely_  not happening. That would open up so many more questions and he didn't want that. 

"What about your mum?" She asked this question with hesitation and Louis didn't like that.  

"Check your charts, don't they give you a family tree or something?" 

"Are you close with your mother?" 

"Look, I see what you're trying to do here, but I don't want to answer your dumb questions. I don't want to be here at all," 

"Why were you in London?" 

"London has the best heroin," he snapped, making to get out of the bean chair he was sitting in. 

"But your bloodwork didn't show that you'd taken any heroin," 

God, she was annoying, wasn't she? She was pushing and pushing and there was so much going on in Louis' mind that he didn't have to deal with this. He was already in the process of trying to work through the guilt of leaving Matt behind. He didn't need to be reminded that he was trapped back in London with no idea what had happened to Louis.  

"What's his name?" Her rapid fire of questions that she would never get a real answer to was exhausting.  

"Who's name?" 

"There has to be a guy, Louis. There has to be a reason you went to London to get Heroin when you didn't even touch the stuff," 

"Matt," Louis felt his whole body go icy and he was surprised, once again, that the words had left his mouth. "His name is Matt and I left him behind in a hotel so I could kill myself, okay? Are you happy now?" 

She shook her head, and Louis collapsed back into the bean chair. The whole thing was stupid, especially the fact that he was sat in a mental hospital with some pretty lady who had no clue about anything but had filled her office with fucking bean bag chairs. He laughed darkly, a tear trickling down his cheek.  

"No, I'm not happy," she said, "I'm not happy that Matt hurt you and that you tried to hurt yourself. I'm not happy that you're mixed up in a world where you don't belong. I'm not happy that you're lost," 

"I'm not fucking _lost_ ," said Louis, wiping away the tear from his eye. It was so much easier to just be angry with her, "I know exactly where I want to be," 

"Dead isn't a place to be Louis," she was sassy and she was challenging him.  

"You don't know a thing about me," 

"Maybe so, but I know a thing or two about the place you're in," she looked at him deeply, trying to crack through to him, but he didn't want any of it. He didn't want to face the things inside of him when giving up was so much easier, "I know about feeling worthless, about people using you. I know about having a family that makes you feel like an alien and I know about wanting to die, Louis, I've been there," 

All of those things resonated inside of him. Suddenly, against everything he'd originally felt about her, he found himself wanting to pour ten million things onto the floor in front of her so she could tell him what to do with them. He wanted to ask her what he was supposed to do with a family like the one he had. How he was ever supposed to love himself when his mother had given him nothing but a list of things to hate about himself. He wanted to ask her how he was supposed to feel when the only friends he'd ever made just used him for money and gifts. He wanted to ask her how he was supposed to know how to choose men when the only ones who had ever been in his life had never cared and had always left. He wanted to ask her what he was supposed to think when his own sister was a fucking stranger to him, and what he was supposed to do with her irrational love. He wanted to ask her if she knew what it felt like to have someone who only used his body as an outlet for their anger. If she knew how he could take away the shame of his worthlessness and if there was anyone out there in the world who could love him despite the mistakes he'd made.  

But he said none of those things.  

Instead he said, "prove it," 

She settled back into her chair and looked at the ceiling, "six years ago I was admitted to the hospital because I fainted in the gym I went to," Louis was watching her, wondering why she was opening up to him like this. What made him worthy of this level of her trust? "I weighed 93 pounds," she made eye contact with him then, "I get it, Louis, I get all of it. I might not have swallowed a bottle of pills, but I was killing myself, too," 

They both fell silent then. Her words rang in his ears, because wasn't that just the same thing he'd originally started to do when drugs first came into his life? Didn't he fall in love with it because it was a slow decline toward death that he was able to control?  

There was at least five minutes of silence before Louis finally spoke, because she'd won. Somehow she'd surprised Louis and broken through the parts of him that had put her inside of a box.  

"I hate myself, and I'm not really sure I even know who I am,"

She nodded sympathetically,"let's make a plan, then, can we? Let's find out who you are and let's fall in love with him," 


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I think I'm finally getting used to my characters now and I think chapters are going to come faster to me.

"Do you have a favourite poem?" 

Louis was sitting on one of those stupid bean bag chairs in Terri's office for the fifth day in a row. When their session was over, Louis was leaving the hospital because classes started this week. He and Terri had decided that it was the best choice for him to go to classes so that they could determine what he wanted to do and what he should major in.  

They'd spoken a lot about a lot of things, but they hadn't really cut in deep to most of the things Louis kept inside of him, but it seemed like a natural progression. Maybe one day they would talk about bigger things, but for right now he was kind of okay just talking about literature with her. No one else had ever really listened to him or offered an opinion on the pieces he liked, so he found himself looking forward to the discussions with her. It was strange to have something to look forward to, but it was a good sort of strange.  

Kind of like the sort of strange that had his little sister spending most of the last few days curled up on the couch in common room, with her head resting on Louis' shoulder while they watched old episodes of coronation street and critiqued the levels of cheese.  

So, strange was good, Louis was learning.  

"Each man's hell is in a different place. Mine is just up and behind my ruined face," Louis said the lines from memory, because no matter how many poems he'd read before or after that one, it had always been the one that stuck.  

"Why that one?" said Terri, who, Louis had learned, liked to ask questions that were obvious simply because she wanted to push Louis.  

Louis didn't really like to be pushed and he responded to her shoves by standing stronger and pushing back. He never let her tip him over and spill out his secrets, but she remained undeterred.  

"I like Bukowski,"  

"But I'm sure he's got more than one poem. Why is that one your favourite?" 

Louis shrugged.  

"What is your hell like, Louis?" 

"I think to answer that I'd need some kind of concept of what hell isn't," 

Whoops. Louis had set that spill out without thinking about protecting himself.  

"What about your time with Lottie, is that hell, too?" 

He sighed, "getting to know my sister while being locked in a mental hospital isn't really what qualifies as happy and normal," 

"Okay," she was resilient, really, "so let's compare your time with Lottie to your time with Matt," 

Louis shook his head, he really didn't want to do this.  

"I don't want to talk about him," 

"Because you feel guilty or because part of you knows your time with him is a mistake?" 

Well, that was just a bit too bold, wasn't it? Louis felt his skin tingle a bit with anger.  

"You don't know anything about what he's been through," Louis was protecting Matt for who knew what reason. He felt a lingering sense of loyalty to his best friend. It wasn't the first time he'd hurt Louis, they'd been through it more times than he could really remember and Louis knew he'd apologize. Maybe they were both too damaged to ever function normally, but there was something to be said for having someone who understood the darkness like Matt did. No one else had a right to judge that. After everything they'd been through together, Louis didn't know if his loyalty would ever change.  

"It doesn't excuse him to treat you like garbage, Louis," 

"But it's not always like that," 

"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a dysfunctional relationship?" 

Louis narrowed his eyes at Terri. She was pushing too hard for his liking. It felt less like genuine interest in his problems and more like judgment.  

"We're not in a relationship," 

She sighed at that and Louis could see the pity in her eyes. She felt bad for him. It was hard for him not to hate her in that moment.  

Her voice was light again and she asked the next question so gently that Louis felt like a literal steaming piece of crap.  

"Don't you want to have sex with someone who cares for you?" 

Louis huffed out a self-depreciating sigh, "I'm not sure of the liklihood that I'll ever find someone that fits that criteria," 

She looked at him with all the sympathy in the world, "I thought that once too," 

Louis wanted to say something badly. He wanted to have a retort about how much more value Terri had in the world than he did, but he knew she would just brush it off. But he was right. Louis was a spoiled kid with a rotten sense of self worth, but Terri? Terri was something. She was a hero of sorts. She wanted to save everyone, and that was so much more than Louis could ever imagine himself being.  

"I told you I used to hurt myself," she started, watching him for any sign of a reaction, "it went on for most of university. I just kept thinking to myself that it didn't matter what happened to me, what I did to myself, because I was going to save everyone else. I was going to make it so that no one ever had to face the pain I felt every single day," 

"But," said Louis to her pause. She had to be going somewhere with this.  

"But, I had no prespective. I had no concept of what 'better' was. How could I save someone else if I couldn't even save myself?" 

Louis was quiet for a moment. Terri watched him intenetly, seeing that he was on the precipe of saying  _something_ , anything, and she was dying for it. Usually he sassed her when she went too deep. Maybe that's what she was waiting for.  

"I don't see what that has to do with me," he started, "you had a plan. You wanted to help people. Of course you could be saved," 

"You can be saved, too, Louis—if that's what you want," 

This time a tear rolled down his cheek, despite how hard he'd worked to keep it back. Terri was wonderful, kind and smart, and, kind of blind. She couldn't see a lost cause when it was looking her right in the eye. Having that tiny bit of hope that she kept repeatedly trying to implant in him was the worst thing Louis could imagine. It was the only possible thing that could make his destruction move any faster. Despite everything in his life, disappointment that the hope was worthless was surely the thing that would bring him to the brink. He couldn't afford it. He couldn’t afford the hope that she or anyone else was capable of saving him, because when it didn't happen? When he finally fell back down and faced himself in the mirror and learned that he'd been right all along? It would kill him. The disappointment would kill him in all the ways he'd failed to do.  

Fuck that hope. He had no choice but to push it aside as he had been all along.  

"That's not what I want," 

Liar. Louis was a filthy, rotten liar, but he was so good at it! It was the only thing that protected him from hope. It was the only thing that had gotten him through the last twenty years.  

Of course he'd wanted to be saved. Of course he wanted to feel something other than complete hatred for himself, but he was nothing it not realistic. He wasn't going to let Terri know that.  

Her exhale was slow and filled with her annoying resilience. She shook her head side to side twice, closed her eyes, adjusted her features and then trained her gaze on him as she opened her eyes.  

"Okay, let's try something new," 

"Great," said Louis dryly.  

"I want you to tell me about yourself. Tell me like it's a story. Tell me who you are," 

His brows knit together and his opinion of her request was plain as day on his face. It was stupid. It was futile.  

"Once upon a time," he mocked her, his eyes and words full of the venom he felt toward himself, "there was a spoiled rich kid who didn't know how good he had it. He didn't appreciate anything and kept throwing away," 

"Stop," 

Louis sighed angrily and closed his eyes, slamming his head against the back of the bean bag chair.  

"Let me try," she said softly, but Louis felt more like shoving his fingers in his ears and sticking his tongue out at her. He didn't feel like listening. He didn't feel like talking. He didn't feel like any of this. She was getting too close to him today. She was hitting too many things on the head for him to shrug her off and it was exhausting at the very least.  

"Once upon a time," she started, "there was a brilliant boy who was born into a family that didn't really understand him," Louis opened one eye, peaking at her, "he was strong and smart, even when the rest of the world tried to bring him down. He survived despite the fact that no one paid attention," 

"Enough," Louis' voice was cutting. He hated this, whatever it was she was doing. There were so many gaps in her version of his story. She didn't have a clue what she was talking about. 

"This is reality, Louis," she started, "everyone is going to have a different narrative on your story. The story you told me was what you've been told about yourself. My story is what I've seen from you, but none of them really matter, because no one else knows how to tell it right. Only you know how to tell it right. Only you understand it," 

 

*** 

 

When Louis opened the door of Terri's office, he all but ran down the hallway toward his room. He was leaving now. She'd cleared him. He'd spent 6 agonizing, humiliating nights in this place and now, finally he got to go home. Funny, thing though, that even as he thought this, he felt more apprehension about walking through the front door than he had about sitting next to Terri and talking about his feelings. He didn't really want to see his family, but he also didn't really have another option, save from living in the mental hospital for the rest of his life. Tomorrow was Thursday and he had his first class in uni and that was something. He'd get assigned new books, and he was taking that poetry class, so there was something to look forward to.  

Maybe Terri was getting into his head more than he thought she had, because before this whole mess, he'd never have thought such a foolish thing as 'looking forward' to anything. It wasn't something he did. Besides school was kind of hell. It was heavy course loads that he'd never managed to properly juggle with his—read: Matt's—social calender. It was waking up early after barely making it home before dawn. It was crowds of people who  _looked_ at him. People who saw him and  _knew_ him. It was a hell in which his last name and notoriety took over. Louis was the notorious rich party boy who smoked and snorted too many drugs to ever be taken seriously.  

He should hate it.  

Damn Terri and her contagious positivity, because even as he thought about the list of many things he hated about it, he still felt excited. Refreshed. Hopeful of the possibility.  

When he walked back into his room, Lottie stood up from where she was sitting on his bed and tossed him his keys. He caught them and looked at her with confusion.  

"Mum and Dan dropped off your car," she explained. 

A little flicker of disappointment or sadness bloomed in his gut, but he tried to work passed it. Of course his own mother wouldn't want to pick him up from the mental hospital. Of course she wouldn't want to be trapped in the car with him for the 10 minute drive to their house and face the disappointment that was her son. He wondered idly if she still thought he'd overdosed. He wondered if the doctors corrected her, or even if she'd stuck around long enough for any explanation.  

No point to dwell on that, though, Terri would tell him, because someone _was_ here. He needed to start looking at the brighter side of things and care less about his mother's short-comings and more about his sister's interest in him.  

Something felt different in him as Lottie draped his duffle bag over her shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist.  

 

Home wasn't far from the hospital, and that was disappointing because Lottie had plugged in her phone and put on a collection of ridiculous music and sang happily next to him as he drove 10 under the speed limit toward their house. He wanted to preserve this moment. He wanted to stay here with her and not go back to his regular life. He wondered if whatever had blossomed between them could survive their house. Were things just going to go back to normal? Was his mother going to do everything in her power to keep Lottie away from him like she'd done for most of his life? Did Lottie even care? It felt like she did, but maybe now that he was out and the immediate danger of him dying was gone she couldn't be bothered to care anymore. That would hurt, but he could get used to it. He'd done it for years. He'd gone unnoticed for a long time and he supposed he could get used to it again.  

Louis reached to turn on the signal light to turn onto their quiet street when Lottie reached out to stop him.  

"Can we just drive a bit more?" 

Louis met her eyes and she looked scared. She looked like something major was going on in her head, but she wasn't saying anything. Louis swallowed passed the lump in his throat and nodded softly, driving passed the turn off for their street.  

Lottie relaxed then, leaning back into her seat.  

As Louis drove, he noticed Lottie kept stealing glances at him. She continuously looked over at him, like she was about to say something, but she kept biting it back. But maybe Louis was imagining it. He didn't know her all that well, after all.  

Finally, after Louis had made approximately 15 random turns and ended up in a totally unfamiliar part of town while Ed Sheeran screamed through the speakers for someone to  _give him love_ , Lottie spoke. Her fingers tentatively reached to the volume dial and she turned it down and aimed her gaze directly through Louis.  

"Will you do it again?" 

His first instinct was to do exactly what he always did with Terri and brush off the whole thing. Ask her what she meant and chafe against her question with witty sarcasm and avoid it all together—but this wasn't Terri. This wasn't a question Lottie was going to plummel him with over and over until he finally caved. This was his sister and she was about to cry (was he crazy, or was she  _always_ about to cry?) and he really couldn't afford to be so callous to someone so young and so pure and genuine in her fear.  

"I don't know the answer to that," he admitted softly.  

Instantly he saw her break. He saw as his words settled into her and saw the affect they had. It didn't make all that much sense, but it upset her. She captured his left hand, pulling it swiftly from the steering wheel. Her palm was sweaty and her long nails dug into his skin, but he'd didn't demand she release her grip. Instead he fumbled an apology, something he was becoming very good at when it came to his sister. 

"I'm not trying to be a wanker, Lots, I just don't know the answer. I'm sorry," he squeezed her hand tighter, "I never wanted to hurt you, I'd never do that on purpose, there's just a lot going on, you know?" 

She shook her head from side to side quickly, "No, Louis, I don't know. You never told me. You never told anyone," 

Because no one would have listened. Louis had been trained his entire life to deal with things on his own. He couldn't rely on anyone else. He'd never had that luxury.  

"You don't understand, Lottie, it's not that easy. Not everything is that easy," 

"But I need you, I need you to be my brother. I need you to be here," 

She'd never needed those things before, and he wanted to say that, but he knew that it wasn't her fault. None of the shitty things that Louis had been exposed to had been his sister's fault. That was the worst part. There was nowhere for him to place the blame because he didn't know how it started. He didn't know what was to blame for making him into the person he was, but he knew that it wasn't her.  

"I'm trying," he said. It was honest. This was the most honest he'd ever been.  

"Thank you,"  

He nodded and she let go of his hand and Louis turned back down several streets until they were near their house again. As he pulled into the driveway he heared Lottie clear her throat twice before she spoke again, breaking their long silence.  

"I'm sorry, too, Louis. I'm sorry that mum forgot about you,"

Louis felt there was a knife in the pit of his stomach. He'd spent so long avoiding his feelings of abandonment that it burned in a way that he didn't expect to have the reminder thrust upon him. He wanted to scream or cry, or kick Lottie out of the car and drive until he couldn't keep his foot on the pedal any longer. He did none of those things, though, because Louis was good at repressing. He was so good at it, in fact, that it was more of an insinct than a consious decision.  

"But fuck 'em, Louis. You're something else, something special and the rest of the world is missing out," 

He wanted to blow off the compliment, but instead he tucked it aside in his mind for further review in a darker time. This tiny, obnoxiously blonde child somehow meant more to him now than he could really express. She made him imagine what it would be like to be the person she thought he was. He kind of wanted to be more like her description, more like Terri's description. He wondered how these two people, after hundreds and hundreds of others, had somehow taken the time to look a little further. Had been willing to see passed all the wrong he'd done and been willing to pick new descriptors for him other than 'drug addled' or 'trainwreck' or 'spoiled and ungrateful'. He wondered what part of him he'd shown that made them believe there was anything more inside of him than what he'd shown to the world.  

Lottie reached into the glove compartment of his car then and pulled out Louis' cell phone. She gripped it in her hand tightly, debating whether to turn it over to him and it made him think about how many messages from Matt were probably waiting for him. It had been a week, which was the longest they'd gone without talking in longer than Louis could remember. He wondered if Matt was worried about what had happened to Louis. He was proabably blissfully unaware that he'd almost lost his personal bank account and Louis thought that was probably for the better. He needed to dwell less on his failure and more on what he was going to say as an apology to Matt. He couldn't get the image of him strung out on heroin and so helpless from his mind. And Louis had just left him! Left him to possibly overdose and possibly die. He knew how many people had choked to death on their own vomit in the exact same place Matt had been, but he'd left! He'd left and he hadn't told a soul in the world about where Matt was. He hadn't even thought of Matt and it was sick and evil of him and he hated himself. He was everything Matt had. There was no one else he could call, and Louis wondered breifly if after one long week of radio silence, if he might have given up on whatever it was that he and Louis had.  

And Louis was scared. He was scared that Matt might have been scared. He was scared that Matt might be angry or just over it entirely. He didn't know how he wanted it all to play out, but he knew that there was no way he was well equipped enough to deal with his guilt, let alone the prospect of facing Matt ever again.  

What a mess. Louis was a mess.  

Lottie handed him the phone and he shoved it into the pocket of his Adidas jumper, not willing to do this while Lottie was sat next to him.  

She looked like she knew a lot more than she wanted to talk to him about. He knew that feeling. Everything inside of him was always so large and so present that he never really knew how to chip away at things and deal with them, but he was full of every elephant in every room inside of him. He was crafted nearly entirely of things that no one, including he, wanted to talk about. He was a paradox of feeling and not feeling all at once and he'd mastered how to live in this weird limbo, but his little sister was not nearly as successful as him. He almost wanted to push, but he also knew how it felt to be pushed. So, he opened his door and let the cool September air rush into the car and fill in the spaces that he and Lottie refused to fill with words.  

 

Inside the house, it was as if he'd been there all along. There was laughter from the family room as Dan cackled along with the twins who were singing the alphabet in a questionable order. The house was always cold, and no matter how many years Louis had spent inside of it, he still felt like a stranger. He never really belonged here, but he'd also never really belonged elsewhere. Lottie followed him into the house and stood next to him as he toed off his shoes and placed his car keys in the tray next to the front door. He eyed the spiral staircase, longing to move quicker, to get to the one sort of sanctuary he had in his bedroom. The last thing he was expecting was for his mother to appear in the doorway. She looked at him like he was a blemish in the middle of her otherwise perfect family. She always looked at him like that. She reached out her hand and he looked at what she was offering him. He took a hold of his Visa card without a word.  

"If you bugger off to London again I'll have your card suspended," 

That was all she said before she made her way toward the sounds of her husband and her smallest babies.  

And that was all Louis needed for the feeling of worthlessness to really set in again, because his mother was so bad at this. She was so oblivious to who he was that she didn't consider his suicide attempt anything she needed to be worried about, hell she probably still thought it was an overdose. So, essentally, she had provided her suicidal son with a car, a phone and a credit card without so much as a question. That was the only fact he really needed to know that he was completely worthless to her. She couldn't care less if he lived or died, but for a change, he didn't feel sad about it. He felt more like he wanted her to be wrong.  

And that was a change. That was a major change that he hadn't expected.  

 

Lottie followed him into his room and hours later they'd achieved that same harmony they'd had in the hospital. They'd argued for the first few moments about senseless things, and then the harmony had slipped right back in without much thought. For most of the night Lottie had sat on the floor painting her nails with extravigant designs that Louis felt inclined to tease her relentlessly over. Now, as she sprawled across the couch in his room and lazily sealed the whole project with a top coat, Louis read out loud to her. He wasn't sure how they'd gotten to this point, but they were more than six chapters into  _Catcher in the Rye_ and Lottie was hanging on every word. She was wrapped up in Holden Caulfield and had an endless commentary about how he wasn't really the arse he'd been painted as, but was mostly just misunderstood.  

She really was a lot like Terri.  

Louis wondered about Holden's narration. Was he telling his story based on what everyone else saw? Were his failures just a series of him giving into what was expected of him? Would the story be the same if he had taken the time to tell his story based on what was actually true and not what he'd been told about himself time after time? 

Therapy was exhausting. Louis had read  _Catcher in the Rye_ more times than he could remember, but he'd never had this connection to it. He'd never thought about things this deeply. He'd taken Holden's life at face value and identified with it because he'd always taken his own life at face value. He'd always seen what he'd been told he'd see. Now the whole world was different and up for debate. Damn Terri. Louis didn't know what to do with all these new feelings and nagging questions and he didn't think he could make it until Friday afternoon when he finally got to see her again. He needed to get it all out of him now. He needed to stifle it or purge it all over the ground in front of the woman who'd made him aware it was there in the first place.  

 

Eventually, somewhere in the beginning of chapter 10, Lottie had driffed off. She was curled up on his couch, a pillow under her head and her jumper draped across her like a blanket. Louis sighed and dog eared the top corner of the page he'd stopped reading and pulled the duvet from his bed and carried it over to cover her up. A smile played on her lips as she felt the weight on top of her. She cacooned herself and got more comfortable and mumbled thank-yous to her brother.  

Louis laid in his bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets and books (he always kept them under his pillows, and always had at least three on the go). He sort of felt an odd sense of contentedness. That was until he remembered he hadn't yet charged and turned on his phone. He didn't want to face Matt. He was a coward, so instead of setting an alarm on his phone like a normal person, he set one on his tablet and let his responsibility to Matt take a backseat for (he  _swore_ ) one more night. He feel asleep to the sound of soft snores from his sister. 

 

*** 

 

Louis woke up the following morning fairly well-rested, save from the horrible nightmare he'd had about Matt's angry retaliation. But thankfully, it was just a dream. He crawled out of bed and padded softly toward his ensuite, determinded not to wake Lottie until it was time for her to head to school. 

The warm water trickled over his skin and Louis went through his usual shower routine and scrubbed every inch of his body like it was infected with the plague. The heat and the urgency of the task did little to clear his mind. He was still thinking about everything. He was thinking about Terri and about Lottie's quiet honesty. He was thinking about his callous mother. He was thinking about Matt and about trying and failing at dying. There were a lot of things going on inside of Louis' head. He couldn't imagine he'd ever be able to sort through them alone.  

 

By the time he'd finished showering he had to practically run out of the house and drive like a mad-man to make his first class. He stared at his schedule that he'd take a screen shot of on his iphone (which may or may not have been on airplane mode still)(Louis was a coward—he'd established that. Embraced it, even). Room 606 was surprisingly hard to find, given that he'd already taken this exact class with the same professor in his first year (he'd flunked that though, because Matt had wanted to go raving in Paris and Louis had been in a very serious and commited relationship with ecstasy at that time), so by rights he should have definitely known exactly where he was going. But he did not.  

As he approached the hallway that he was pretty sure his room was down, he heard loud, boisterous laughter echoing from somewhere behind him. He didn't turned to look for it though, but the voice was loud and Irish and insistent. Whoever it was, was having a very loud and apparently very amusing conversation with someone much more soft spoken. Louis did't strain to hear what they were talking about, but he was aware with every step they took that they were heading in the same direction as him.  

Soon, though, Louis arrived at a room with a large 606 tacked onto the door. He'd found it, and entered as quietly as he could manage. There were only a handful of students in there yet, all seated far from each other. He didn't want to sit next to anyone, so he took a seat in the second row, far from any of the scattered pupils in the room. He hung his rucksack on the back of his chair and listened as the loud Irish voice made it's way closer to the door and then boomed directly into the room. 

"Here it is, Harry!" He yipped in the happiest voice that Louis had honestly ever heard. He watched as the Irish boy got closer to him and took him in. He was average in build and height and wore tight skinny jeans and ridiculous pure white trainers that looked like they might be three sizes too big to actually fit him. His two most distinguishable features, however, were bright cornflower blue eyes that caught the light like it was their job and his insanely  _fake_ blonde hair that he wore straight up off his head. He was so loud and so present, that if Louis hadn't have been sitting the spot he was, he might have entirely missed his friend as he followed quietly and slowly behind him.  

The friend was much more restrained in both is appearance and his presence. He carried himself with a quiet confidence. His lips looked like they were prepetualy hiding a smile, and Louis wondered what kind of jokes were running through his mind as he followed his friend up to the back row of the classroom. Louis took in his impossibly tight  _checkered_  pants, and wanted really badly to pass judgement on him, but on the boy they looked subdued and normal and he was more than confident enough to pull them off. His hair was long, and Louis was able to make out the soft chocolate curls, even through the wide rimmed black fedora that he wore. He was a bit out of control in his style, but his body language was the very pinnacle of restraint. He looked completely at ease as he trotted along silently behind his alarmingly loud counterpart.  

Once they were out of sight, Louis turned his attention to pulling out his MacBook so he could take notes. The professor entered the room after an endless stream of students and Louis' attention moved from the loud pair of boys to the blackboard where the professor scrawled notes about required texts and how he planned to grade his assignments. Louis fell into the rhythm easily then, his fingers flitting quickly across the keyboard and writing nearly every word his professor said.  

"This semester will have two components, as all science classes do," he annouced, "the first will be the lecture portion, which will take place on Thursdays and Fridays. The second portion will be your lab work which will be Mondays. You will be expected to keep with the lecture material and prepared for all your quizzes and exams. You will also be expected to participate in every single lab date, for which you will be partnered with the same person for the semester," he paused, "Any questions?" 

Louis heard the recognizable Irish voice pipe up, "when can we pick our partners? I've got my eye on this curly headed hipster here," he gestured to his friend who finally let his secret smile blossom fully, revealing chiseled dimples. Louis did a double take. 

Curly lifted his hand directly after his friend finished speaking and added, "what do I have to do to ensure my personal protection from this worthless Phys Ed major being my lab partner?" 

The rest of the class room chuckled at their banter, including the professor. Louis was kind of just dumb struck watching the whole display. He couldn't really put a finger on why, but there was something about the pair of them that made him uncomfortable.  

"Well, Mr?" The professor asked the curly haired one. 

"Styles," 

"Well, Mr. Styles, I can offer you protection via the alphabet," he said quickly, "you lab partners will be chosen based on how they fall on my class list. Thankfully for you that means you'll be far from Mr. Horan here," 

Louis had kind of stopped paying attention to the whole exchange because he was a bit worried over the fact that he'd need a partner. He'd already been through this class once (in theory) and he'd definitely failed whatever partner he'd had. He was kind of notorious for this and he didn't miss the whispers around him based on his last name and where it fell in the alphabet.  _My last name is_ _Trotch_ _, I'm stuck with Tomlinson for sure_ complained someone a little too close to him. He debated leaving the room then and there, but he didn't want to be so obvious. He didn't want everyone around him to notice him even more than they already were. It was a funny and painful thing for Louis to both exist with such a notorious reputation and yet feel completely invisible and ignored by the world at large.  

By the time people had finished whispering about who they wanted to be paired with and who would be unlucky enough to be paired with Louis, class was nearly over. The professor promised to announce partners that Monday during their first lab session. As he walked out of the class, in a deep internal debate with himself over whether or not he was going to even bother showing up to the lab at all, he barely noticed that the curly haired boy and the Irish one were right behind him.  

"I'm not super fussed over who I'm partnered with," said the Irish one, "All's I know is me last name won't get me partnered with Tomlinson and that's a win for me," 

"I just hope my partner is nice," the curly haired one spoke slowly and his words felt whimsical and deliriously happy and Louis had to question what it felt like to be so subconsciously at ease with the world around him.  

Louis knew nothing of the sort and couldn’t imagine being so comfortable with himself that he could be so genuine as to wear checkered pants and a fucking fedora to the first day of classes. He had to hand it to curly, he had a calm poise and he was able to pull it all off pretty effortlessly. 

Whatever else the day had in store for him, he felt pretty certain that it couldn't be nearly as bad as hearing his name whispered throughout the class and then directly behind his back. Friday, or  _Terri-day_ as he had begun to think of it, couldn't really come fast enough. He kind of wanted to consider maybe talking to her about something he was feeling. Maybe she could pretend to know how it felt and offer him some kind of advice that might make things feel better momentarily. Until then, though, he just kept hearing his name repeated through that classroom in his head. He hated to be seen, let alone as a disappointment, though by rights he should have been used to it.  

Fuck it all. How dare he have allowed himself to get excited about returning to school. It was just a different hell in a difference place.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Harold :)


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to show you some more about Harry :)

"Have you seen Matt?" 

That was how Terri essentially opened their session after the niceties had passed. Louis felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach, as he did regularly for the last week or so at the mention of Matt's name.  

He shook his head from side to side.  

"Why?" 

Louis debated whether or not this was something that he wanted to answer. Most of him wanted to brush it off because it was really deep and something that made him feel ill, but he knew if he passed over this one she'd bring up something else that he didn't want to talk about. He'd expertly avoided all her questions about his family life and he really wanted to keep it that way. And if he was being honest with himself, he kind of wanted to talk to someone about what was going on with Matt anyway. He wanted to be assured that his mistakes were fixable. That Matt wouldn't hate him forever.  

"I didn't have my phone while I was here," he said softly.  

Terri hid her surprise from him quite well. She hadn't expected him to answer, and when he did, it took her a moment of internal fumbling before she had her next question ready. "But you have your phone now?" 

Louis nodded.  

"And?" 

"Its on airplane," 

Terri's eyebrow shot up in surprise, "Why?" 

This was the moment where he had to decide what course of action he would take. Normally, this would have been far enough for him. He had said more than enough things for her to fill in the rest of his blanks. Of course, though, for the last two days all he'd been really thinking about was just this—talking to her. Maybe he should go further.  

"I don't actually know," he admitted.  

"Can I guess?" 

He shrugged, signaling her to try.  

"I think you're scared," she began, "I think you're afraid that you lost him for good," Louis shrugged and she plowed on, "but I also think you're scared to face him again because of what we talked about. Because you know now that he's not good for you," 

One week ago, Louis would have lost his cool. Her words were close to home and bold. They were honest and _true_. That was the part that made Louis the most nervous. Most of him wanted to run away and end this conversation now.  

"I don't have anyone else," he heard his own voice and was just as surprised by the admission as Terri. "If I lose him that's it. He's the only friend I've got. I don't want to lose him," 

"Then why haven't you spoken to him?" 

Louis stared at his hands, avoiding her eyes, "because of what you said," 

"What did I say?" 

"That he doesn't treat me right. That we're dysfunctional," 

"So, what's scarier for you then? Is it being with him or is it losing him?" 

Louis hadn't thought about that. He'd thought about both avenues many times, but he hadn't weighed one over the other. He hadn't considered which prospect was for terrifying to him. Matt was all he knew. There wasn't really much outside of their tiny bubble and he wondered what would even happen to Matt if he didn't have Louis to take care of him. Louis fed him, clothed him, rolled him over so he wouldn't choke on his vomit. He'd bailed him out of jail and taken the heat for his theft more times than he could remember. He'd driven him to the hospital that one time he'd overdosed and had driven the entire city looking for him that weekend they'd spent on mushrooms...

There was a whole world that belonged to Louis and Matt and Louis wondered if there was any way to exist beyond that. He felt a nagging loneliness inside of him, but he couldn't quite be sure if that loneliness had been there all along and Matt had just been a distraction to make it feel less present. He wasn't sure that what they had was something that could keep him satisfied fully, but the fear that he would never find something real, something deeper was what kept him holding on. No one else took a chance on Louis, Matt was the only one. Maybe underneath all the violence and his long list of shortcomings Matt had some sort of genuine feeling for Louis.  

"When I left him in that hotel," Louis started, fully aware that Terri's eyes were focused intently on him, "we'd been fighting, or... something," he wanted to say more, but the privacy of his sad and pathetic sex life was kind of the only thing that kept him together. He didn't really want to admit that he let Matt destroy him. He didn't want to be that level of pathetic. He didn't want to talk about it, but he wanted her to understand. It was a hard place to be trapped.  

"Tell me how you feel after it. After you and Matt have sex, what do you feel like?" 

A sob ripped out of Louis chest. He wanted to hold it together, he really did, but she'd asked the worst possible question. He never addressed it. He never so much as let himself tiptoe around the subject in his head. He didn't want to let himself belive that what Matt did to him was wrong. He'd given his consent. He'd agreed to all of it, but he still felt like garbage and that wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was aware of that. There was something wrong with him because he knew that sex was supposed to make him feel good. He was supposed to desire it and feel fulfilled and loved and he felt none of those things. He felt worthless. That was the only thing he really felt and he knew it was wrong. He didn't know how to tell Terri that even when it came to sex he didn't do it right. There was something fucking wrong inside of Louis because he should have felt grateful and valued over the fact that someone wanted to sleep with him.  

Terri place a tentative hand on his knee, "I used to feel that, too, Louis," 

He shook his head, the tears falling from his eyes at an alarming rate. He wanted to be done now. He didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want her to watch him fall apart anymore. He didn't want to have to explain that there was really no way she knew what he felt because _it wasn't fucking normal._ Nothing about Louis' life was ever normal. That hurt.  

He shook his head from side to side aggressively, "no, I don't want to talk about this," he was practically begging her, and she was a therapist. That would probably give her more and more amunition to delve deeper and deeper into this point of weakness for him and he wished he'd never agreed to this. He wished he'd never agreed to keep seeing her after his stay. It was all a huge mess now. Now she knew too much. 

"Louis, it's okay, I get it," she urged. 

He just kept shaking his head back and forth. To think, before this moment he'd been looking forward to this! He'd wanted to see her. He'd wanted to open up about things, but this was not what he'd had in mind. This was nothing like what he wanted to tell her. He'd wasted the last couple of days being excited about this, but it was all wrong. There was no such thing as a real and honest safe place. Louis could never be safe for real. He had no one but himself and he hated that he'd let her get under his skin. He hated that he'd believed, however breifly, that she would be able to help. That she would care and that she would understand.  

"I should go," said Louis, moving to get up from his chair.  

Terri jumped up after him, "no, Louis, it would be a very bad idea to leave it like this," 

"Leave it like _what?"_ He demanded.  

Terri sighed, "to leave when you're in pain, Louis, I'm sorry, but these are things we need to talk about. These are things I can help you deal with, but you have to let me," 

"This was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. I've always taken care of myself—I don't _need_ you," Louis couldn't remember ever feeling so mad about anything in his life before that moment. Anger was an indulgent emotion and he never let himself get there, but there was something about this moment, about this subject, about this woman that made it happen faster than he could analyze it.  

"Louis, please sit down so we can finish things, oaky? I can't let you leave when you're this triggered," 

He wiped aggressively at the tears that wouldn't fucking stop falling from his eyes and glared at Terri, "I don't owe you _anything,_ " he snarled.  

"But I owe you, Louis. I owe it to you to help you get through these feelings. Just tell me about it, I promise I can help," 

He shook his head, "I told you I'm done," 

They were at a stalemate. Terri didn't know what to say next and Louis wasn't going to speak. Surely, he should have ran far away, but for some reason he didn't. He didn't because he didn't know what would happen next. He didn't know if he would come back for his next session, but most frightening of all, he didn't know if he left in that moment if he'd _make it_ to his next session. He didn't know if he could live through the pain and fear that was boiling over inside of every part of him. He was scared and he wanted to sceam at her to fix it, but she wasn't the broken one. She wasn't the one who felt everything wrong. She wasn't the one who'd made all of his mistakes. She was nothing like him. She was redeemable in all the ways that Louis wasn't.  

"Look, Louis, I used to do it too. I used to let people use me until my body barely felt like my own. That's why I stopped eating, it was the only control I had over my physical self. It's no different than you and the drugs. I know you don't want me to, but _I get_ _it_. I get what it feels like to just keep giving because you think that's all you're worth, but trust me Louis, that's not all you're worth. You have a beautiful mind and you're witty and smart and the world wants to see that, Louis, but you have to see it first," 

 

Begrudgingly, Louis stayed the rest of the session. In fact, he stayed 45 minutes after the session listening to Terri's story. It scared Louis how easily it was to buy her words when she said she understood him. It wasn't really safe, and rationally he knew that, but there was something about her that just kept drawing him back. He wanted to be understood, and she kept claiming that she did and it was easy for him in the moments that they were together to let himself believe that she did.  

 

*** 

 

After the first and second day of Bio lectures, Louis had mostly convinced himself that it would be a horrible idea to bother showing up to lab. Clearly it was a stupid mistake to even try to redeem his accedemic career. He didn't know how he'd let Terri convince him that he should bother showing up. It was early enough in the semester to bail without concequence (not that consequence had ever been an issue for Louis—Dan was on the board of trustees at his uni and no matter what he did, he'd never get kicked out. Aside from that his family would rather have him fail multiple times than have him drop out entirely—it was all about what everyone else thought. A son enrolled in university would always be better than the other options).  

He'd meant to bring it up to Terri so that she could have at least filled him up with enough lies that he could fake confidence about going to class, but they'd gotten distracted after his whole emotional breakdown, and he hadn't seen her over the weekend. In fact, he wouldn't see her again until Tuesday. Tuesday and Friday were now offically their days. He told himself he was only giving her two more chances, but he was probably kidding himself, because the more he tried to brace himself and remind himself that she wasn't permanent and that he couldn't really trust her, he realized that he _wanted_ her to be and he trusted her instinctually.  

It was unfortunate that one of the only people in the world who wanted to look at him and see him how he was, was paid to do it. It took away from the authenticity of their relationship whenever Louis reminded himself of this fact. It was her job. She probably saw 10 other boys after him who were equaly as fucked up and told them all the same stories. 

But, Louis had a pretty bad habit of talking himself into dark places. He should probably work a little harder not to get to that place. 

So, Louis had found the strength (or was it stupidity?) to walk to his lab. He got there early so that he could take the most inconspicuous spot possible. He didn't want to do this, but he had no idea what _else_ to do. He didn't want to sit in a classroom full of people with preconceived notions of who he was. He didn't want to pretend he didn't hear them talking about him. He wasn't 100% certain what had driven him to walk through the door to the classroom, but he'd done it. When he got in, there was only one person in the room. He moved to the second row of lab tables. He _wanted_ to sit in the front row because he never brought his glasses to school and he'd actually be able to see the board there, but he also didn't want his professor to really see him and look at him, and god forbid, _remember_ him from when he'd attempted this same class two years ago.  

The boy who was sitting in the classroom, Louis now realized he recognized. This time, instead of donning his hat, his hair was held back with a bright purple scarf. Louis wondered idly if he was wearing the same checkered pants or if he had dressed more sensibly for lab. He didn't dwell on it, though. Instead he took his seat and opened his computer so that no one would look at him as they entered the room. Curly was sitting in the back corner and as Louis predicted, the Irish one came barrelling into the room, laughing with two other guys that Louis hadn't bothered to see last time. The three of them took seats next to Curly and continued to laugh at whatever joke the Irish one was telling. If he tried hard enough to listen, Louis was pretty sure that he could have heard the entire conversation because the Irish one was incredibly loud, but he didn't really want to. He didn't like to peer into the lives of people who were so much like the type of person he wanted to be. He desperately wondered what it would be like to have a friend who genuinely wanted to be with him, let alone to be a part of a group. These were things Louis would probably never really understand.  

He really needed to learn to be oaky with that.  

His professor walked in then, commanding the room to silence. Again he spoke about the expectations within the lab and how he'd be marking the weekly assignments. Louis kept his attention on him and off the buzz around him regarding lab partners. Eventually, after answering seemingly endless questions, the professor pulled out the dreaded class list and started to read off the pairings. Louis was able to tune most of it out, knowing that his name was toward the end. Most of the people in the classroom were strangers, so people were not particularly excited about their partners.  

"Horan and Jones," said the teacher and the Irish one—Horan—yelled enthousiastically across the room at whoever was, presumibly, Jones. "Malik and Payne," 

The two mystery boys that were sitting with Horan and Curly cheered loudly and hugged happily.  

Louis zoned out then, not really listening as he continued to prattle off names of a seemingly endless amount. Louis was nervous, was the thing. No matter who he wound up partnered with, they were going to react badly because his reputation preceeded him. They were a classroom full of first years and yet somehow, someone had warned them about him. It was a major cause of anxiety for Louis in that moment. He didn't want to be partnered with anyone and he kept praying that his teacher was going to forget to say his name all together.  

Of course, luck did not work in Louis' favour. 

"Styles and Tomlinson," said his professor. The room went silent for a moment until Louis heard a couple of hushed whispers and sighs of releif. _Styles._ It took Louis a moment before he remembered why that name sounded so familiar to him. Curly was Styles. Oh good lord, there was nothing sacred in the world, was there?  

As the professor continued to list off the remainder of the names on his list, Louis spent all of his energy trying to evaporate. He never should have come here. He never should have decided to give bio another shot. This was all just a hopeless spiral toward the hell he was destined for. As he stared directly into the word document he had pulled up on his MacBook he wished he'd skipped the class. He wished he could have just lived up to the reputation he already had and let the poor boy down early and easily. He desperately hoped that Curly would drop the class so that Louis could be left alone to his misery.  

When the professor had finished reading off the list he spoke again to the class about his expectations and then he addressed Curly directly, singling him out, out of nearly 100 others. 

"Mr. Styles, I'd like to talk to you after class is dismissed," 

Louis turned to see Curly nodding swiftly. He saw the Irish one then, whispering something in his ear. Curly looked unphased by whatever it was. Nothing really seemed to bother him.  

The last few moments of class seemed to fly by, much to Louis' excitement. He needed to get to the Registrar's office as soon as possible and drop this fucking class before something else exploded on him. He was jittery and his palms were sweating aggressively. Maybe University was not the best choice for him. The whole thing was doomed to fail. He didn't even have the first clue what he was doing there. He hated it. He loathed every second of it.  

A moment later, students were clearing the room. Curly's three friends marched out first, laughing loudly and talking about their weekends. Curly, however, packed up his things slowly and delicately. He placed them safely into his bag and made his way toward the professor's desk. Louis couldn't help but wonder what this was all about. He wanted to know what was so special about Curly that the professor wanted to talk to him and not the other 90-something people in his classroom.  

Louis had never pretended to be anyting other than nosey. He packed his things quickly and hung close to the opened door to hear about what the professor and his doomed lab partner were going to talk about. Regret for his decision was instant.  

"Are you from Doncaster, Mr. Styles?" The prof asked him first of all.  

"No, I'm from Chesire, I've only been here two weeks, why do you ask?" 

There was a deep sigh and Louis had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

"As a professor in this university I have to operate under the assumption that all of my students are on an equal playing field," _oh, god,_ why did it feel like Louis knew where this talk was headed? "Even with past experiences, I have to respect the system, Styles, but I just want to let you know that I will be watching closely, and I'm willing to accept assignments that you hand in independently," 

Louis should walk away, he really should, he knew that, but he felt glued to the ground. He was listening to this whole thing unfold and it was alarming and shameful and it _hurt_ because this wasn't his peer. This was his professor and he'd already decided, before they'd even completed a lab and before he'd turned in a single assignment that Louis was a lost cause.  

"Okay..." Curly said slowly and awkwardly, like he had no idea what their teacher was talking about. He must have, though? Everyone knew what to expect of Louis, this wasn't something new.  

"What I'm getting at, here, Mr. Styles, is that I am not trying to sabotage your success in this course. It was simply the way the alphabet worked today and I don't want there to be any hard feelings here. I want you to know that you can keep communication open with me through the semester and I can make adjustments to accommodate your situation," 

This time, Louis did move. He felt horrible. His only choice at this point was to drop the class. He'd been through enough humiliation lately. He didn't need more. He didn't need the idea of facing Curly after their teacher and briefed him on all the ways in which Louis would let him down.  

To think, Louis had gone into this day with a stupid amount of hope. He'd known it was a trap. He'd known better than to let himself hope, but Terri was too convincing. Even the small things like this were too hard. He couldn't allow hope into these places any more than he could allow them into his personal relationships with Matt or his family. It was all a horrible disaster.  

He pulled out his phone, opening the map so that he could find his way to the registrar. He needed out now. He needed Terri now. He hated to _need_ anything, especially a person, but in this moment that was the least of his worries.  

He was vaguely aware of the sound of boots clicking behind him, but he didn't pay much attention, instead he focused on trying to find which floor he needed to be on.  

"Wait up!" The voice was tentative and deep and slow. It was also familiar—probably because he'd just snuck a listen to his most recent conversation.  

Louis turned around, stopping to see the tall figure behind him. His jeans were skinny and black this time, gone were the checkers and he wore a loose button down top, powder blue and full of black cats. It was a ridiculous outfit, especially paired with the bright purple scarf that was still holding back his curls that fell just passed his shoulder.  

Louis mouth felt parched and he really wasn't used to strangers initiating conversation with him. "Oh, hey, Curly," he said stupidly, insanely aware that he most definitely had a name that was _not_ Curly.  

Instead of correcting Louis, though, Curly just beamed brightly at him, displaying his dimples and a row of perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth, "hey, cheekbones," 

Curly beamed at him brightly and Louis felt his whole face flush. He wasn't used to someone being so kind to him. It felt strange.... but oddly nice.  

"It's Louis, actually," 

Curly nodded slowly, the smile not leaving his lips, "I know," he bit his lip lightly, laughing at his own joke "I just thought we were calling each other by our most identifiable features," and, of course he knew. Everyone knew. He wasn't sure why in that moment that seemed to matter more than usual to him. He felt his cheeks flush again. Who knew what kind of preconceived notions this boy had of him. It was such a shame, too, because he seemed so kind. Louis didn't want to be the one to let him down.  

"I'm Harry, not sure if you already knew that," 

Louis shook his head, "no, Curly, I didn't," 

Harry's eyes were a deep kind of green and they shimmered at Louis' words, which was pretty distracting for Louis.  

"I just wanted to find you..." 

Louis cut him off, finishing the sentence he expected to hear, "and let me know this class is really important to you and you need a good grade and you don't want me to ruin it," 

Harry's shock at his words seemed pretty genuine, which is not what Louis expected.  

"Well, no, actually," said Harry, "I wanted to give you my number and my email and apologize in advance for being completely horrible at anything that has to do with science," 

Harry was hard to read. Exceptionally hard to read. It seemed to Louis like he meant the words he said, but they didn't make sense. He'd literally just been called aside to be warned by his professor that Louis was a horrible partner. Surely he wasn't being genuine here.  

They stared at each other in silence for a long, agonizing moment because Louis truly was rendered completely speechless. He didn't know where they were supposed to go from here. He felt a mild sort of embarrassment for his outburst, but he also wondered if he had been right and Harry was just being polite. It seemed the most logical option.  

Eventually, though, after Louis had let the silence linger for way longer than was socially acceptable, Harry broke it.  

"So? Can I see your phone? I'll put my number in it," 

Automatically Louis reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPhone and unlocked it. He handed it to Harry and wondered idly if Harry was taking note of that fact that there were only 5 contacts saved in his phone. There was Matt, Lottie, his mum, Dan and his grandad. That was pathetic wasn't it? He couldn't be quite sure, but he figured most people had more than that.  

Harry still held his phone in his hand and Louis rocked nervously on his feet. He didn't really get the end game here. Was he supposed to believe that he and Harry were going to become texting buddies? Funniest of all, though, was instead of just telling Harry he was heading to the registrar to drop the class, he was letting it all happen. He felt kind of powerless. Harry lifted his eyes from the screen and met louis' for a moment.  

"I wanted to send myself a text but it's on airplane," 

Louis swallowed against the lump in his throat, embarrassment coloured his cheeks. He stared at the ground. The last thing he wanted, for unknown reasons, was for Harry to find him weird. That ship had probably sailed.  

"You can turn it off," he said, nervously watching as Harry flipped through his settings and waited for his phone to explode with angry texts from Matt. There was a ball of salt in the pit of his stomach as he thought about it.  

A second later, Harry handed his phone back to him just as the duck sound chimed from Harry's phone.  

Louis laughed despite the horror playing out in his stomach. "Your phone quacks?" 

The dimples were back on Harry's face and he nodded like an ancient zen master (Louis wondered idly how someone so young seemed to have achieved such complete and utter inner peace). "I like ducks," he said with a shrug.  

"Right," 

Harry was still smiling and it seemed so easy and genuine. Louis looked back down at his phone and immediately let out a surprised laugh, his smile so big that it hurt the parts of his cheeks that it tugged at. There, on his screen, was an iMessage that simply said "cheekbones". Funnier, still, was that the contact it was sent to was "Curly" with the poodle emoji next to it.  

What kind of weird universe was Louis living in? Harry was nice and funny and Louis couldn't figure out for the life of him, why this boy was paying any sort of attention to him. Harry didn't handle awkward silences nearly as well as Louis did, so his deep, slow voice made another appearance.  

"Do you have another class now?" 

Louis shook his head slowly. He wasn't sure where any of this was headed. If he was honest, more than anything he was waiting for the punchline. He was waiting for Harry to get on with whatever it was he really wanted to say to him. Louis wasn't naïve enough to believe Harry hadn't heard what his friend had said, what their professor had said—or what every person in the room thought about him. There had to be something more. There just had to be, because while it was nice to have someone treat him like a peer and not just an utter nuisance, he didn't buy it.  

"Nice," said Harry, thoughtfully, his smile still easy and calm on his lips. He adjusted his bookbag on his shoulder, "well, what way are you walking? I'll head with you. I've got like an hour before my next class," 

Something uneasy settled into Louis' stomach because he really, really, had wanted to head to the registrar, but it suddenly seemed like the worst task in the world. If he dropped the class now, it would leave an odd number and Harry wouldn't have a lab partner at all, and that really suddenly seemed like the most horrible thing Louis could do for him. It was a strange feeling, because normally Louis was eager to live up to expectations. There was something about being told he was going to fail a million times that made him give in and fail. So, with Harry's shimmering, happy green eyes and the way he spoke to him like he was something more than the worst curse he'd been forced to endure? It kind of made him want to do everything in his power not to let him down.  

Maybe it was Terri's nagging optimism, or his little sister's insistence that he was something more than what everyone assumed, but something felt different in him. 

"My car's out that way," he said pointing toward the hallway on his right. 

"Oooo," said Harry excitedly, "you've got a car. Must be nice," 

There was a hint of playful mockery in his voice, but Louis wasn't sure if he was being serious or not. Didn't everyone know who his Grandad was? Didn't everyone know what kind of money his family had, the way they'd spoiled him to make up for ignoring him his entire life? 

Louis shrugged then, deciding to play along with it. He liked the idea that Harry was letting him create his own self-portrait instead of getting hung up on the things he already knew. "Yeah," he smiled, a bit understated, but it was definitely there, and they started walking then, "you _don't_ have a car?" He said it in a teasing way that still felt a little uneasy for him, but came in a shockingly natural way.  

Harry's answering chuckle was a relief. He knew Louis was joking and not being the pompous rich kid everyone else thought he was. "Technically, yes, I do," said Harry, walking easily in stride with Louis (who was walking a lot slower than he normally would have—caught up in the weird dynamic that was unfolding between them), "but the bitch has wronged me. She died before the summer ended, so I never got to bring her here. She's taking up space in Mum's driveway as we speak," 

"Interesting that your car has a gender," noted Louis as he continued forward, his gaze focused on his shoes.  

"I worked at a bakery for three years to save up for that car. We've been through a lot together in our short time. You can't _not_ form a bond with your car, Louis," 

Louis laughed, probably mostly because he had no real bond with his car. Louis had always had a hard time with 'stuff'. It had always been there. It had always come and gone and when things were less new and shiny, they were replaced. Louis didn't feel a real bond to anything he saw as 'stuff', and his car (which was the fourth one he'd had since turning sixteen), was lumped into the 'stuff' category. It wasn't like that for Harry, though, he noted. Harry's car was special to him in a way that Louis had probably never felt. A twinge of jealousy settled into him. He'd spend his whole life not getting attached to things and, in that moment he really resented that. He wanted to feel a bond to _something_ tangible.  

Then, from somewhere behind them a loud voice boomed Harry's name. Harry turned immediately and the obsenely blonde friend from their biology class was there, practically glaring at Louis. He felt sick to his stomach (sicker than he'd felt since he'd become aware that he was no longer hiding behind airplane mode). He kind of wanted Terri. He kind of needed her really bad in that moment. Harry, so his credit, seemed to be perpetually oblivious to the world around him and didn't see the tension behind his friend's gaze.  

"Hey!" He said excitedly, reaching out and stopping Louis' slow march forward by grabbing his wrist softly. Harry smiled brightly at his friend and then back at Louis (who was, once again, hoping against all hope that he would evaporate). "Louis, this is my friend, Niall," 

How could Harry have such a genuine smile when everyone around him was so bloody uncomfortable? It didn't make sense to Louis, who just stayed next to Harry as still and quiet as possible as Niall's eyes assessed him in the harshest possible way.  

"Tomlinson," he said finally, and Louis nodded. Yes. Unfortunately, that was him. "seems you lucked out this semester with your lab partner," 

Louis was nodding slowly, feeling the venom behind the words. There was a level of protection there, a threat that Louis had better not do him wrong. Niall couldn't possibly understand just how hard Louis was going to try to live up to that.  

Harry rushed to fill their awkward impasse with more words, "don't listen to him," he assured Louis, "you most certainly did not luck out. Biology is not my forte," 

Then there was the silence that Louis had expected from the beginning. Niall's eyes didn't leave him. They were protective, like he thought Louis had gone out of his way to chase Harry down. He honestly must have thought that Louis was trying to fool Harry into believing the was a good person, when in reality, before Harry had interfered, he had been trying to do the right thing and get rid of the problem (himself) entirely. It was a strange dynamic. Louis didn't really understand any of it, least of all the idea that Harry needed to be protected. Did he honestly not know any better? Surely he was just too polite for his own good and was hiding all the opinions he really had of Louis. There was no way he honestly believed that Louis was a salvagable lab partner—let alone human being. Niall's glare was intense and Louis wanted to run, but he was kind of caught up in thinking about Harry's hand gripping his wrist. It was like he'd wanted him to stop and participate in this strange three-way conversation that was turning out to mostly be a conversation between Louis and the daggers hidden beneath the soft blue of Niall's eyes. Louis wanted to leave. He really wanted to, more than anything, but he also really didn't want to do anything that would classify as disappointing to Harry, so he chose to stand like a mute idiot and withstand the icy glare of Niall. It was a strange place to be trapped.  

"We should really head to class," Niall was addressing just Harry now, who furrowed his eyebrows at him, "we don't want to be late," 

Harry looked like he was going to argue with him, but Louis cut in first, "right, have a good class," he said awkwardly, trying to look everywhere but at Harry or Niall. He turned on his heel then and headed toward his car as quickly as he could.  

"Bye, Louis!" Harry yelled down the hall after him. A small twinge of guilt ran through Louis for not saying a proper goodbye to Harry. He raised his hand and waved without turning around.  

To date, that day had definitely won the award for the strangest day Louis had had so far. He didn't know what to make of any of it, so he marched toward his car without another word (or a second thought about stopping at the registrar—strange).  

 

*** 

 

It was half passed nine when Louis heard his phone go off. Since his encounter with Harry (which had ultimately ended in him completely discontinuing use of airplane mode), he'd been stressing over this very thing. Currently he was on his bed, his biology textbook opened in front of him and his syllabus close by. He was now about 2 weeks ahead in his reading, which was a bit eager, yes, but he didn't know how else to pass the time. Lottie was sitting on the couch in his room reading the last chapter of _Catcher in the Rye,_ and filling Louis in on every detail as she read along. This was kind of just their dynamic now. Lottie had spent her first night in her own room since Louis had returned from the hospital the previous night. She was starting to trust him and that was palpable in the way they interacted. She no longer felt like she had to keep such a close watch on him. She had also stopped asking him to promise he'd come home after school, or promise that he'd be there when she woke up. It was gradual, but they were finding the place in the world where they existed as siblings. Louis didn't mind any of it. He found himself welcoming it all, and, even with the pressures of the people outside of his bedroom, he felt safe. He felt like, however small it was, he'd found a place in the world where he was welcome.  

Since coming home from school earlier that day, though, he'd felt an enormous amount of anxiety over the very sound he'd just heard go off. He'd been insanely aware of his phone's presence, just to the left of his textbook, all night. He'd been waiting for it to go off. He'd been expecting a stream of angry texts or insinsere apologies from Matt all night. It had been roughly two weeks since the day Louis had left him in the hotel room. He knew that Matt must have run out of money by then. He's only paid the room for the week, so he wondered what Matt's next step would be. Had he even left London, yet? Had he made his way back to Doncaster and was he even thinking about Louis at all? There were ten million questions in the back of Louis' mind as he heard the text arrive. He was horrified that he'd soon have to leave this strange bubble he'd been living in for the past couple of weeks. It had been so nice to pretend that the world was full of sunshine and lolipops and little sisters who gave a fuck and strangers who were nice to him—but that would fade. Louis was certain of it.  

The only thing he wasn't certain of was how he would react when reality crashed back in.  

So, the chime from his phone telling him he'd received a text? Well, it was, in a word, horrifying. Part of him screamed internally because he wasn't _ready._ He didn't want to go back to being the person who disappointed everyone in the world (and most of all, himself). He didn't feel ready to be that person again. He wanted Terri to be there, to tell him what to do, but he'd fucked that up, hadn't he? She'd wanted to talk to him about it. She had wanted to tell him how to get through this moment, give him the tools he needed to deal with the two parts of his life when they crashed back together, but he _hadn't wanted to talk about it._  He'd purposely avoided it. He'd wanted to talk about _books,_ not Matt. She had been right there and ready to tell him how to react, but he'd wanted none of it because he was a fool! 

Now, he was sitting on his bed, desperately trying to ignore the fact that his phone had gone off at all and reading the same lines from his textbook over and over until he looked up and saw his sister's soft eyes watching him. She looked at his phone like it was an alien (maybe that wasn't so strange since it hadn't made a single sound in the days since he'd had it back).  

"Who is it?" 

Her words seemed innocent enough, but Louis couldn't really be sure. Who knew what she'd heard in all the years before his suicide attempt. Surely everyone had warned her about all the toxic leeches in his life. Surely she had some clue. Maybe she was just challenging him. Maybe this would be the breaking point. Maybe she wanted to know how he would handle this. Perhaps his reaction to whatever Matt had to say to him would influence her final decision on her brother.  

He shrugged. He didn't want to tell her any more than he wanted to know who it was. He wanted to throw the damn thing across the room in hopes that he'd never have to deal with the text message, but it wasn't really an option.  

Thankfully, Lottie just shrugged back and looked down at her book again.  

Louis took this opportunity to finally focus his attention on the screen.  

Instead of feeling nauseated and nervous, a flood of relief rushed into the pit of his stomach. He wanted to smile, but he fought against it, not wanting Lottie to pay too much attention. He picked up his phone and unlocked it to read the message.  

 ** _Curly: I haven't got a single clue what's going on in chapter one. We might be doomed._**  

It was pretty simple. Pretty much just a text that Louis could only assume that the average person might send to a new acquaintance, but it felt like so much more to him. It sent some kind of warmth through his chest that flowed all through his insides and suddenly he was just really _warm._  He wanted to think of something to say back, more than anything. He didn't want to leave this conversation one sided. He wanted more than anything to make sure that he appreciated Harry being nice to him, even if all it did was release a swarm of questions in him.  

Before he could think of anything, though, he saw the three little dots appear in the left corner. How was it even possible that at 9:30 on a Monday night Harry had thought of not only one, but _two_ things to say to Louis? What kind of twilight zone had he entered? The next message appeared and Louis' mind was sent into a spiral of dozens more questions.  

 ** _Curly: What are you up to, anyway?_**  

The second message was much easier to respond to, so Louis did without thinking too much about it. He kind of liked that.  

 ** _Louis: Just hanging out with my sister. Doing homework. You?_**  

The three dots appeared instantly this time.  

 ** _Curly: Same. Homework. Didn't realize you had a sister..._**  

 ** _Louis: I have 5, actually._**  

This time Harry sent a wide-eyed emoji and followed it up with more words (and this whole thing was _weird_ and surprisingly natural for Louis)(nothing had ever been natural for Louis).  

 ** _Curly: Wow. That's a lot of sisters. I've only got one. Do you have five brothers, too?_**  

Again, Louis questioned what kind of parallel universe he was in that made someone he'd only just met seem so eager to have a conversation with him. Maybe Harry wasn't really a student at all. Maybe he was a figment of Louis' imagination. Maybe Louis' stay in the hospital had just made his mental break even worse. Maybe he was a complete mental patient now. Funniest thing of it all, though, was that that option seemed much more viable to Louis than the idea of Harry's actual existence.  

But he kind of didn't mind playing along. 

 ** _Louis: Nope. Just one._**  

 ** _Curly: You're drowning in siblings..._**  

There were a lot more things that Louis was drowning in that had nothing to do with his siblings. One of them was the weird uneasy feeling that Harry gave to him, but he wasn't really ready to address that just yet.  

 ** _Curly: It must be nice though, t_** ** _o always be surrounded by so many people._**  

Then, Louis felt like he needed to throw up. There was no way he could ever, ever explain just how alone it made him feel to be surrounded by so many people. He stared at his screen for a minute, desperately trying to think of something to say other than _I'm never surrounded by people who actually see me._ He doubted for a lot of reasons, that saying something like that would qualify as socially acceptable. Still, though, he couldn't think of what he _should_  say. Then he saw the dots telling him Harry was typing again. He held his breath, praying he was going to change the subject to anything else. He didn't want to let the conversation to die, but he had no idea what to do with what Harry had just said. He watched for a moment as the dots hovered and then disappeared. Disappointment stuck him hard and his own fingers waited over the letters on his phone and he tried to will some sort of social skills to be bestowed upon him so he could move passed this impasse. The dots appeared again, then and Louis watched, hopeful, as Harry tapped out another message that he hoped he wouldn't erase.  

 ** _Curly: So what's your car's name, anyway? I never got to meet her...him?_**  

Louis let a rush of laugher fall from his lips and it was only when Lottie shot over to his bed that he even remembered she was in the room. Her eyes were gigantic and sparkling at him.  

"Who is it!" Her voice edged on shrill and Louis didn't really have a clue about how to approach a response to that question. "Is it a girl?" She furrowed her brows then, as if she didn't really understand the question she'd asked, "a boy?" She bit her lip awkwardly as the words fell from her mouth.  

Louis wanted to laugh again because how ridiculous was it that they were having this conversation like this. Louis supposed, maybe this was the first time he'd ever had to have this conversation. Terri had just made the assumption he'd liked boys because of their conversations about his sex life. He'd never really spent much time dwelling on the fact that he'd always fancied guys because there had always been so many more important things going on in his life. He hadd never given it much thought, it had just come naturally to him. Of all the things that Louis hated about himself, it always seemed that it was kind of at the bottom of the pile. He supposed, looking back at it, that he'd never really told anyone in his family, which wasn't that strange because he'd never really had the talk with himself about it. It was just always there and he'd probably assumed that everyone else saw it, too, but Lottie's tentative question made him realize otherwise.  

He smiled as he looked up through his lashes at her, still holding his phone, "neither," he said, glancing back at what Harry had written.  

"So, I'm supposed to believe you're texting an 'it'?" His sister's sharp wit continuously took him off guard.  

He laughed again, "it's my lab partner," 

"Your genderless lab partner," she wasn't moving on, her smile moved from excited to prying pretty quickly, "does it have a name?" 

Louis slowly tapped out a response to Harry.  

 ** _Louis: I haven't given much thought to it, honestly. I'm sure yours has a perfect name though?_**  

Louis heard the responding whoosh almost instantly.  

 ** _Curly: Yes. Carla._**  

Louis laughed again, looking up from the screen and seeing his still curious sister who urged him for a response.  

"Yeah, it's Harry," shrugged Louis as casually as he could manage, because this was _not_ casual. Louis did not have friends. He certainly did not have friends who texted him late in the night about what their cars were named. He certainly did not, so the whole thing was very much _not_ casual. But he didn't mind because it was kind of really foolish and perfect and he wanted to know what Harry might name every inanimate object he crossed paths with.  

Lottie rolled her eyes and started back over to the couch, "sounds like a boy," she mused. 


	5. V

"Tell me about your mother," was the first thing Terri cut into Louis with on their Tuesday session.  

Louis had survived the whole weekend, Monday and most of Tuesday, with the thought that he was eventually going to be sitting here and listening to her advice. He wanted to talk about what to do with the fact that he still hadn't spoken to Matt. He also wanted to mention that he had finally opened the lines of communication, but Matt had still not reached out. There was a lot of things that Louis _wanted_ to talk about, but none of them involved his mother.  

"Um, no," was all he said.  

"Eventually, Louis, you're going to have to talk about it," 

He shook his head. Nope. He was never going to have to talk about this because it was all irrelevant and it had nothing to do with the real issues he was facing in his life. His family, his childhood, it was all just cookie cutter from every kid who had a rough go of things. Louis wasn't any different than any of them, so Terri already knew everything she needed to.  

"How about this, then, Louis," she tried to skirt around the things she wanted to ask, "tell me about your father," 

Louis shrugged, "I haven't got a clue," was all he said.  

"See, now we're getting somewhere," 

"There's plenty of dead-beat dads out there. Mine's hardly remarkable," 

"Yes," she said, "but a lot of the people who have deadbeat dads, have a mother that tried to make up for it," 

Louis stayed quiet. He didn't want to dance anywhere near this subject. Anything he said could make it all blow up, so there was no way he'd utter another word.  

"I met your mother when you first came here," said Terri, and Louis looked up at her, giving her permission to continue. She looked like she had about a thousand things resting on the tip of her tongue, but all she said was "It felt like I was speaking to someone that had never actually met you," 

That was fair. That was pretty accurate, actually.  

"I didn't want to talk about that today," said Louis. 

"So you came with a plan?" 

"I..." He stared at his hands, "I turned my phone back on," 

Terri looked frightened, which Louis found odd, "and what happened?" 

It was all very anticlimactic, considering the look on her face. She expected some great story, but Louis didn't have one to tell.  

"Nothing," 

Louis could easily tell that it wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. "Can I be honest with you?" She asked him suddenly very serious.  

"Aren't you always?" 

"Of course," she started, "but honestly, I'm scared about what you're going to do when its time to see him again. I'm afraid that I won't have gotten you to a place where you're ready to deal with it," 

He pondered that for a moment, "can I be honest?" 

She nodded quickly, her eyes following every small movement his body made. 

"I'm worried that I'm not ready to deal with it," 

"So, why did you turn your phone back on?" 

"Extenuating circumstances," 

 

*** 

 

Tuesday night had proven to be just as uneventful as the rest of the day. Louis and Lottie had assumed their normal positions in his bedroom. This time, though, Lottie had started a new book at Louis' recommendation ( _The Perks of Being a Wallflower)_. She was just as quiet as usual while she sat on his couch and he typed up study notes. The poetry class he was taking had given him one giant syllabus with a lot of readings on it, but he was already a third of the way through them. His biology text was still opened on one corner of his bed while he flipped through a poetry anthology for a Walt Whitman poem. He wanted to get as far ahead in his biology readings for reasons he didn't really understand, but it was getting a bit exhausting. His notes were thorough and he'd done about three drafts of each chapter before he felt really satisfied.  

It was approaching ten o'clock, but for some foolish reason, Louis was still staring at his phone like he expected something of it. It sat right next to his biology text and hadn't made a sound all night. The anticipation he felt that night was vastly different from the nervous paranoia that he'd felt the previous night.  

But it was all stupid, because expecting that Harry would text him was maybe the biggest waste of energy Louis could name. He could see already that he was getting himself in trouble. One series of texts about naming cars was very different than harbouring expectation that there could be more conversations about Harry's quirks. Louis was very aware of all of this. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that Harry probably felt something akin to guilt for his socially isolated lab partner. It wasn't a genuine interest in Louis' life. It wasn't anything of the sort, and Louis knew that better than anyone out there. He really, really, wanted to crush the disappointed part of himself. He didn't want to be upset that he had spent the last couple of hours religiously checking to make sure that his phone wasn't muted.  

Obviously, it wasn't muted. It was just a lack of people who gave a shit about texting him.  

Lottie must have been watching him again, catching on to his nervous energy, "phone goes both ways, you know," 

"I do know, thanks," he snapped quickly.

Lottie smirked knowingly at him.  

He quickly refocused his energy on the biology textbook that he'd been ignoring for the passed hour. Maybe he could finish chapter four (which, really he wasn't due to finish for 3 more weeks—but that was moot) before class on Thursday. Louis didn't have a whole lot of experience with biology, but he had the motivation to pick up that slack. He wanted to do well in this one class, even if he failed the rest (but he might not because he'd actually gotten a ninety on his first english paper). 

He heard Lottie's loud yawn from across the room and looked up to her.  

"I'm gonna head to bed," she announced, stretching as she got up from the couch and headed toward the door. She turned back to look at him, and she looked like she was about to ask him for one of her now famous promises. Even with the level of trust that ebbed and flowed between them, she wasn't quite at the point where she was certain. She didn't quite know if he was permanent. He didn't quite know if he was either. She was about to say something and then she looked at his spread of books and looked at his phone, still sitting silently beside his bio book. She gave him a tentative smile and swallowed her demand for promises, "'night, Louis," 

He smiled back at her and resumed his focus on the text in front of him. He heard the door shut and then he flopped back onto his pillow and let out a long sigh. He wasn't really quite sure what he was doing. School wasn't filling enough of his time and he had way too much time to sit around and think about everything that was going on in his messy life. He'd already spent too many hours planning out every possible situation with Matt, and that was getting old now. He was bored of over thinking it, but Matt had taken up all of his spare time previously. Now he didn't know how to function in the absense on his chaos. The world was too quiet and too safe and he was... _bored._ A feeling that he wasn't particularly used to since most of his life had been made up of a constant rushed panic over all the horrible decisions he typically made.  

Now? Now everything was quiet and stable and normal and Louis didn't have a clue how to exist in such silence. Nothing had really changed. All he'd lost was his catalyst and he didn't know what to do with all of his time. At the rate he was studying at he was going to finish the semester before Christmas. That wasn't really going to help anything.  

He gave his phone the millionth check for the night. It was nearly half ten. He resolved that by the time he had a quick shower and brushed his teeth it would be a reasonable time to call it a night. This was an exciting prospect to him, which should also have been alarming because no twenty year old should lead such a boring existence.  

But, Louis did.  

 

Louis returned to his bed twenty minutes later, wrapped in his towel. He pushed the books aside and settled in for the night. He picked up his phone without engaging the screen and plugged it into the wall. As the screen lit up he stifled his excitement as he saw **_Curly_** appear in front of him. He rushed to unlock it, fumbling with his passcode 3 times before he finally got it opened. The message was already a full 10 minutes old and Louis felt rushed to read it and come up with a quick enough response so it didn't seem like he was ignoring Harry (god, there was a lot of thought to put into texting someone)(this was something that was completely foreign to him). 

 ** _Curly: I just don't think I was really meant to memorize the definitions of DNA vs RNA. I've read it sixteen times and I still don't have a clue._**  

It was pretty basic. A pretty normal way to open a conversation with a new classmate and Louis wished that he could have been brave enough to start conversations. But he tried not to get hung up on it and opted to use humour as his response.  

 ** _Louis: Wow, Curly, that was like the first page. You might be right about being doomed..._**  

 ** _Curly: Of course I was right. I'm always honest._**  

Louis smiled to himself.  

 ** _Louis: I can send you my notes from C_** ** _hapter One, if you want._**  

 ** _Curly: I really don't want to start the first week off by already being a dead-beat partner..._**  

 ** _Louis: If you change your mind, I'll send them._**  

 ** _Curly: You're the best, honestly. I'm sure I'm just exhausted from work. It was a long day._**  

Louis wasn't really sure if this was an opening that he was supposed to take. He didn't know if Harry wanted to get off topic. They were lab partners—not friends and Louis had no real reason to expect Harry to give him details about his life.  

But he was so _nice_ and Louis didn't want too think too much about it. 

 ** _Louis: I didn't know you had a job._**  

 ** _Curly: Because you didn't ask!_**  

Louis wasn't quite sure how to take that, but then the whoosh came again and he saw the winking emoji and smiled at his phone. 

 ** _Curly: But, yeah. I have a job. I work at_** ** _starbucks_** ** _, and no I'm not good at that either. I burned both of my hands trying to steam milk today._**  

Louis sent a sad face, despite the way he was smiling down at his screen. This was nice and it was so easy and Harry responses kepy coming quickly and easily and Louis wondered how long they could keep this up. He wondered how long it was going to be before he did something to let Harry down. Hopefully he'd be able to keep it together awhile. He quite liked having someone to talk to.  

 ** _Curly: Its okay... I'm sure I'll catch on eventually. What about you? Do you have a job?_**  

Louis had to seriously consider whether or not Harry listened to anything that anyone else said. Everyone knew about the money his family had. Louis had never worked a day in his life, but he really hated how that sounded. He really was bound to keep this whole thing between him and Harry as honest as possible, so he didn't want to lie. 

 ** _Louis: No._**  

 ** _Curly: A car and no job. You're living the dream, aren't you?_**  

Harry couldn't possibly understand just how much he was _not_ living the dream. There was no real way for Louis to explain that without sounded as fucked up and pathetic as he felt. He wished that he and harry were from the same universe. He wished that Harry could understand him and that he could understand Harry because right now it felt like they were standing on two opposite sides of a fault line, trying to find common ground.  

He heard the whoosh again and another message from Harry appeared.  

 ** _Curly: I'm sorry if I'm annoying you with all these texts. I don't really have a lot of friends here yet and I'm a bit homesick and I'm still trying to figure this whole thing out, you know? I'd like to get to know you... you seem like a nice person._**  

Something swept across Louis' body and it felt like he was on fire. In twenty years of being alive, not one person had ever looked at him and thought he might be worth getting to know. It had literally never happened. From preschool to university everyone had overlooked him. No one had ever said anything to him like what Harry had just said.  

 ** _Louis: No. You're not annoying me at all. Just the opposite, actually. I can't even imagine how hard it must be to move to a new place. You're doing a good job, I think._**  

 ** _Curly: Good. I'm glad I'm not annoying you. :)_**  

Louis just smiled down at his phone and wished desperately that Harry could just know the way that Terri just knew. He wished that Harry could read all the things he never said out loud so he didn't have to explain it. He wanted someone, someone real and not paid to do so, to see inside of him. This was a new revelation. 

Harry sent another message quickly.  

 ** _Curly: So what is there to do for fun in_** ** _Doncaster_** ** _, any way?_**  

 ** _Louis: I think I'm probably the last person you should ask that question to._**  

Louis really didn't want to sound pathetic, but it was just one of those things that came naturally.  

 ** _Curly: Well, maybe we can figure it out together..._**  

Louis rolled over and shoved his face into his pillow to hide his smile. It felt foolish to him to be so excited about a text message. Harry was just nice. That was it. He probably texted dozens of other kids from his classes. He wasn't singling Louis out—not with all the other options he had. There was just no possible way.  

But it felt right. It good and real. It just _felt_ and feeling was something that Louis was really not used to, but saw himself slowly getting addicted.  

He tapped out with respose quickly, before he and Harry said goodnight.  

 ** _Louis: Deal._**  

 

*** 

 

When Thursday finally came around, Louis found himself actually feeling excited about the prospect of going to bio lecture. He didn't know why, because as excited as he was, he was also completely convinced that Harry wasn't going to pay attention to him at all. He also felt stupid and overzealous because he'd printed off a copy of his notes from the first two chapters to hand to Harry. Which was dumb, because he probably wasn't even going to talk to Harry today. Harry was going to walk into the room, maybe wave to him if he was lucky and then sit with his friends like he usually did. It was pretty stupid of him to have gone so bloody overboard.  

Just as he was chastising himself from his seat in the second row, Niall and the other two friends that Louis hadn't actually met yet, walked into the room. They were always laughing and always loud. They marched to the back of the room as usual and took their seats. Louis busied himself with opening his computer and arranging his pens next to his notebook. He tried not to obsessively watch the door and tried not to get disappointed as people who weren't Harry kept walking in. Finally, though, Harry marched through the door, looking happy as a clam and carrying a takeway tray full of paper cups. Instantly, even though Louis tried hard to not be looking, Harry's eyes found his and he shot Louis his fullest, most dimply smile and Louis felt like his cheeks were on fire. He could practically feel the glares from Harry's friends on the back of his neck, but fuck it, because he wasn't doing anything to hurt Harry. He didn't think he _could_ ever do anything to hurt him. He just wanted to be near him, to be like him, to heat himself with the calm warmth that Harry brought along with him.  

Harry climbed the stairs, passing Louis and Louis tried to focus on anything other than the crushing disappointment that settled into his stomach. Even though he didn't want to seem desperate or pathetic, he allowed himself to turn his head to watch as Harry approached his friend group. They all greeted him happily and Harry placed the take away try down in front of Niall. He spoke to them for a moment, and then deftly grabbed two of the teas out of the tray and turned around. He met Louis' eyes again and Louis felt his face flush again from the embarrassment of being caught. He turned quickly back around and started opening every application on his computer he could find just to busy himself with something. Just as garage band opened, he heard the chair next to him being pulled out, which was odd because no one had ever sat beside him in this class.  

"Hey cheekbones," he heard Harry's slow and careful voice next to him and he had forgotten just what it sounded like, but it was nice. It was nice in just the same way his messages were.  

He looked over to Harry who had hung his rucksack off the back of his chair and was pushing a tea toward Louis. Louis wasn't sure who had invented this person, but he was surreal.  

"Hi Curly," Louis hoped his voice sounded a whole lot more confident than he felt.  

Harry turned around then and fished out a small paper bag from his backpack and smiled gently at Louis, "I wasn't sure how you took your tea," 

Louis blinked once at Harry before he was able to think of a response, "just a bit of milk," he said, watching as Harry pulled off the lid and quickly emptied the contents of the tiny creamer into the steaming cup. He grabbed a stir stick and twisted it around inside a few times before putting the lid back on. He slid the drink toward Louis then.  

"I'll remember that next time," 

Louis was aware that to anyone else in the world this kind of thing was no big deal. People bought their acquaintances tea all the time. It was probably nothing to Harry, who was clearly a people pleaser and thoughtful in ways that Louis wasn't used to. But Louis wasn't just anything. It wasn't _just tea_ for him. It was a gesture that made him feel human and visible and for once he didn't mind being seen. No one had ever bothered to look, let alone to try to care. Harry was still mostly a stranger to him, but he was a stranger who had already done more for him than anyone else he'd ever met.  

No one had ever brought Louis a tea. No one had ever done something so thoughtful and it felt like a lot and he wanted to rush to thank him a million times over, but he also didn't want to seem pathetic. To the rest of the world Louis was just a rich kid. Louis could afford to buy a tea shop. He didn't _need_ someone to buy him a tea. So, no one ever had.  

And now, here was Harry, sweet as pie, handing him a cup that he'd probably put very little stock into. He'd probably never truly understand the weight the simple gesture had for Louis.  

"Thank you," he hoped it sounded as sincere as it felt, "I'll pay you back," he wanted to be graceful and know how to have this sort of exchange, but this was a road less travelled for him. 

Harry chuckled softly and shook his head, pushing the bag of sugar and creamers away from him, "Don't be ridiculous, its just a tea, Louis," 

Louis slowly wrapped his always chilly hands around the cup, not knowing where to go from where they were. Harry was sitting next to him. He'd brought him a tea and Louis felt more than a little pathetic over the fact that this was probably one of the best days he'd honestly ever had, and they'd only said a handful of words to each other.  

Harry turned around again and started pulling things out of his backpack. He placed a large leather journal on the table and put a pen next to it. Louis noticed as he started stacking text books on the table that one of them was a copy of the Merchant of Venice. He instantly reached out and plucked it from the stack, running his fingers over the cover, desperately grasping at this one bit of common ground he'd _finally_ found between he and Harry.  

"You're reading Shakespeare?" 

Harry finally found his bio text and put it in front of him and looked over to Louis with a small smile, "I'm taking a class on Shakespeare," Harry watched as Louis stroked the front of his book, like a crazy person but did nothing to stop him, "It’s required for all theatre students," 

Louis didn't look away from the book. He wanted to know what to say but he was awful at this sort of thing. It took him too long to clue in that he was still holding Harry's book and staring at it like a mental patient. He put it down quickly without a word, focusing his attention back to his computer. Shouldn't the professor be here by now? Wasn't there some kind of grace left in the world that would save Louis from further embarrassment? 

Just then he felt a tentative touch on the back of his wrist. He turned back to see Harry's sincere eyes again, forgiving whatever social faux pas Louis had just stumbled through, "Do you like Shakespeare, Louis?" 

There was nothing there. Nothing bad hiding behind Harry's words. They were encouraging and genuine and Louis could have gotten lost in the feeling of ease that Harry had surrounding him.  

Slowly, Louis began to nod his head. He turned then and reached into his own bag, pulling out a small, brown hardcover book and placing it on the table between himself and Harry. It was his copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and he'd carried it in his backpack for as long as he could remember.  

Harry picked it up then, opening it to see the old, yellowed pages and the dedication in the front. Harry read it aloud, "'For my beloved daughter, Nora'," Harry met Louis' eyes then, curiosity burning in them and Louis wanted to pause this moment and keep it with him forever because he could never ever remember seeing another person so interested in what Louis was doing or saying. It was special and it was important, "who's Nora?"  

Louis watched in awe as Harry brought the old book to his nose and inhaled deeply (he thought he was the only one who found the smell of old books so lovely), "She was my grandmother. She gave me the book before she died," 

Harry closed the book gently and handed it back to Louis, "I'm really sorry," 

Louis shook his head back and forth quickly, "Don't be. It was before I turned eight. It was a long time ago," 

"Were you close?" 

Louis was nodding before Harry even closed his mouth. Yes, he and his grandmother had been close. She'd always been there in his early memories. He'd probably spent more time with her than with his own mother. His grandmother had been one of the only people to really pay attention to him. She'd never seen him as the embarrassment his granddad had, she'd never ignored him the way his mother had and she'd never been distracted when his first sister was born. She'd read him every book on the children's self in their library and when she'd run out, she'd started reading him anything else he picked out. It was how they'd always spent their time together. His grandmother had loved Shakespeare and even though he'd been too young to really _get_ it, he'd loved to listen to her read the poems and read the plays. Her passion was intoxicating and he'd been over the moon when she'd decided to give him her most cherished book.  

Louis had read all of the sonnets inside more times than he could remember, but they'd never sounded the same when she wasn't reading them. That's why he'd branched out. That's the reason he'd found Bukowski and all of his other favourites. There had been too many memories between the lines of the old book.  

Louis looked into Harry's green eyes and he could tell just how sorry he felt that Louis had lost someone he loved. It wasn't the same kind of pity he'd expected of Harry so many times previous. It was something more. It was a kind of pain that Harry felt looking into other people's pain. It was remarkable.  

Louis nodded then, "we were," 

Harry was just about to say something when their professor announced for the classroom to quiet down. Harry looked disappointed that their conversation had to end. He reached out and gave Louis' wrist a soft squeeze, "I'm sorry," he mouthed the words and Louis nodded slowly.  

 

The rest of the class was a blur. The professor kept talking about things from the first chaoter and it was then that Louis realized just how obsenely far ahead he was in his readings. Harry kept taking notes through the whole thing, and Louis tapped out his own on his computer, even though they were mostly just repeats of the notes he'd already made. He didn't want to look, for even a second, like he didn't have the full intention of carrying his own weight. Harry needed to know that he wasn't going to let him down or saddle him with the full workload.  

Every few moments, Harry would look up from his notebook and try to catch Louis' eye. Louis, of course, did not understand any of it, so he kept his gaze everywhere but Harry, but he could see him in his periferals and it was distracting.  

Two hours of biology lecture was too long, and Louis had drank all of his tea and he wanted to run as fast as possible when the professor finally announced that their session was complete. He closed his laptop quickly and started to clean up his row of pens. He didn't say a word but he felt Harry's eyes on him. He didn't really know what to say, so he stayed focused on packing his things. When he reached into his backpack, he was reminded of the chapter notes he'd printed to give to Harry. Since he pretty much always looked like an idiot anyway, he pulled them out.  

"Do you have another class today?" Asked Harry then, his voice more tentative than usual. It was already four in the afternoon, and thankfully Louis' day was over.  

Louis shook his head, handing over the papers to Harry, "nope," 

Harry analyzed the paper for a minute and then looked up to meet Louis' eyes, "you didn't have to give me your notes, Louis," 

"I know, but I wanted to. I want you to pass," 

Harry smiled at him then. "Do you maybe want to go for a walk with me? I have another class at six, but I really don't want to sit in the library," 

Louis watched as Harry's friends walked passed them, staring directly at Harry. Harry seemed to always be blissfully unaware of how everyone else looked at Louis. He kind of liked that. Harry was too oblivious to ever be truly swayed in any direction.  

 

The september air was cool against Louis' cheeks as he walked in stride next to Harry. They were exploring the courtyard around the campus. Harry knew a surprising amount of facts about trees and had been pointing out the different species to Louis, apologizing for being a nerd. Louis didn't mind. Not after his episode back in the classroom where he'd stroked the boy's book like a crazy person. He'd be pretty much willing to overlook anything Harry did by that point, as long as he promised not to leave.  

"So why Doncaster?" Asked Louis 

"Three main reasons," said Harry, boots clicking across the cobblestone path they were on, "first was because it wasn't far and I could drive home on weekends. That dream died along with Carla," Louis chuckled as he realized he knew Harry well enough now that he knew who Carla was. That felt important. "Second was because my nutter of a best mate was already here. He was a year ahead of me, so he promised he'd scope the place out and teach me all about it when I got here," Harry watched Louis' expression carefully as he spoke, "my best mate is Niall, by the way. He moved to Holmes Chapel like three years ago and the rest is history," 

 _Niall._ Right. The one who knew all about Louis and had probably warned Harry to watch his back. No wonder he'd acted to strangely when Harry had introduced him. They were best friends and he only wanted to keep Harry's best intrests in mind. It was admirable.  

"What's the third reason?" 

"There's a good theatre program here," 

"So you want to be an actor then?" Asked Louis, watching the way the wind captured Harry's curls (which were not restrained in any way today).  

"My childhood dream was to act on Broadway," he said, a smirk on the corners of his lips, "but now I just want to be a drama teacher," 

"That's lovely," said Louis instantly, "you'd make a fantastic teacher," 

And it was honest. Louis couldn't think of something more fitting for such a quirky and charming person like Harry. He was genuine and honestly just wanted the best for everyone he came into contact with. Those were all the best qualities for a teacher to have. He could imagine harry inspiring kids and making their days brighter. Louis wished he could have had a teacher like Harry. Who knows what more he might have been capable of.  

The conversation flowed easily back and forth as they continued to walk around the campus. Harry didn't ask a lot of questions this time, but rather favoured telling stories from his childhood and asking Louis' opinion on every book he could remember reading. It was nice. Louis forgot how to be insecure somewhere around the hour mark. He forgot to think and rethink about every word he said to Harry. Things spilled from his lips easily and the laughter felt as natural as breathing. He didn't want their time together to end, but Harry's class started soon.  

"I can walk you back to your car," offered Harry, "I haven't got to meet him or her yet," 

Louis laughed, "I'm not sure if it's a him or a her, I might need your opinion," 

"That's a lot of pressure, you know. I can't believe you'd put that much faith in me," Harry put his hand over his chest and fluttered his eyelashes as he spoke.  

"I can't think of anyone else more well-versed in the naming and gendering of motor vehicles," 

"It _is_ a niche market," agreed Harry, smiling so big Louis got a little bit lost in it.  

Louis led the way back to his car reluctantly. He didn't really want this day to come to a close. He didn't want his time with Harry to be so limited. He wanted to keep asking him questions about teaching, about acting, about Holmes Chapel and what it was like to grow up in Cheshire with a best mate who was Irish. He couldn't be so selfish though. Harry wasn't his friend to keep. He was his lab partner. Louis was simply someone to kill time with, and that was okay too. Even if that was all this was, killing time with Harry had been memorable in a lot of ways. Harry's kind heart had shined through with every word he said and every question he asked or answered. Louis could get used to them killing time together.  

That was a bit of a scary thought, too, because getting used to things wasn't always good. Having expectations of any kind usually wasn't good. Expectations that hinged on another person? That was a slope so slipperly that Louis didn't want to get anywhere near it.  

Louis tried not to pay attention to the delemas going on in his head and tried to focus on what was real. He heard the steady click of Harry's boots on the pavement as they walked toward Louis' car. His boots were gold, and he was wearing black skinny jeans again. He was wearing a button up brown twill coat with a red scarf wrapped around his neck. It was pretty obvious that style was something that was important to Harry. He always looked sharp and confident. Louis wished badly that he could have had even an ounce of the confidence that Harry had. Instead, he was concious of every sound his Vans made as they scraped across the ground. He wished he wasn't the kind of person who dragged his feet so he could look less stupid walking next to Harry.  

They approached the parking lot where Louis' car was and Harry was telling a story about how he'd played Tom Collin's in his school's adaptation of _Rent_ when he'd been fourteen. They were both laughing as Harry regaled the story of the production and how everything had been perfect until he'd gotten his pants stuck on a rogue nail backstage and tore them open right before he was due to sing the reprise of Seasons of Love. Harry was hilarious without really trying to be. Louis liked that. He got lost in that.  

He got lost so much so that they were nearly at his car before he even noticed that there was someone sitting on the hood.  

Something sinister and rotten sunk into his gut and his footstops stopped completely and it took Harry only a half a second to notice and stop next to him.  

There, after more than three whole weeks, was Matt, smoking a cigarette on the hood of his car. Harry looked uneasily from Louis to Matt, instantly picking up on what was causing Louis' anxiety. Louis wished then that he knew Harry better. He wished that he could have asked him for help. He wished that he could have lied to Matt and followed Harry back into the school.  

But, Louis wasn't lucky enough. Not like that.  

Matt flicked his cigarette onto the ground and hopped gracefully off the hood like the perfect bad-boy vilain in every movie Louis had ever seen. He made a beeline for Louis and Harry and Louis wished time would stop. Then would have been the optimal time for an asteroid, but it didn't happen and he and Harry were soon face to face with all of Louis' baggage and dirty secrets. He'd wanted to open up to Harry and let him see his past, and now here it was. Here was all the bad that everyone had warned him about, and he was waiting for Harry to wave the white flag and take off as quickly as possible. 

But he didn't. Instead he stood strong and tall next to Louis and started Matt straight in the eyes. Matt looked like he was about to rage. Louis could see it below the surface and in the way he stared back at Harry.  

This was all a mess. And Louis wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to accept that every good thing came with something bad.  

But that was the story of his life. 


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a long time coming, and I'm really sorry about that. I got caught up in a short story that was stuck in my head and wouldn't leave me alone (its called New Man and I posted it, if anyone cares) 
> 
> This is a short chapter, and I'm sure the next one is going to come a lot faster than this one did. 
> 
> I'd just like to say that the response to this story for me has been really overwhelming. I've never gotten so many comments on a fic and its really fucking amazing, and I'd just like to say that I read every single one, and they mean so much to me. I appreciate every single person who reads this and its amazing to me that people care enough to leave feedback. 
> 
> Thank you all so much.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Louis Tomlinson," said Matt, shifting his gaze momentarily from Harry back to Louis. Louis was terrified. There really wasn't another word to sum up the feeling. "I must say I was surprised to see your car here, figured you'd be done with classes by now," 

Louis wanted to tell Harry to leave to both protect the image Harry had of him but also to protect the good in him against matt's volatility. He didn't know where this would go but he wished there was some way to tell Harry he didn't have to stay.  

Then, of course, because there was no way to really measure what to expect of Matt, he smiled calmly at Louis.  

"Miss me, baby?" 

Louis looked at Harry then, taking in his expression. It was kind of hard to read. Louis wasn't sure what Harry was thinking but most of all he wasn't sure what Matt was thinking. He seemed so calm and so at ease, but he was throwing daggers in Harry's direction. Louis had never felt so helpless and clueless in his life.  

Without much feeling behind it, Louis began to nod. He had missed him, hadn't he? He didn't really feel certain about anything in that moment. He wished he was really ready. He wished he'd listened to Terri and opened up so that he knew what to do. Most of all, though, he wished that Harry wasn't part of this. He didn't want their time together to end. He wanted to keep on being the person Harry saw, but he knew he had to let it go. He had to let Harry go and face his own problems. Matt was his own problem and he'd invited it into his life and he was the only one who could face it head on.  

"You're not going to introduce me to your friend?" Matt's blue eyes were cold and icy and he looked, in a word, terrifying. Louis didn't want Harry anywhere near any of his.  

But before Louis' mind could come up with a way out, Harry reached his hand in Matt's direction, "Harry," 

Matt took Harry's hand in his quickly and Louis could see the iron grip he shook it with. This was probably the weirdest place Louis had ever been. He didn't have a clue what was happening.  

"Matt," he said, giving Harry a snake-like smile.  

Harry nodded and met Louis' eyes briefly before turning back to Matt, "charmed I'm sure," 

Harry needed to leave. He needed to leave before this whole thing exploded. Matt was a ticking time-bomb—always had been—and Louis didn't need collateral damage. The trouble was that there wasn't an easy way to approach it. He didn't want Harry to think that he _wanted_ him to leave. That he wanted to be left alone with Matt. He just wanted Harry to not have to worry about the same ridiculous things that he had to.  

So without a plan of attack, Louis, Harry and Matt stood at an impasse. Louis couldn't think of a single reason why Harry hadn't used his next class as an excuse to escape yet. It didn't make any sense. He should have been sprinting in the opposite direction, but he was standing there, rotating his gaze from Louis to Matt and back again. He was waiting for something, maybe an explanation or a dismissal—Louis wasn't sure. 

After the silence had lingered too long and Matt realized that he had complete control of the situation, he chose to ignore Harry.  

"Why don't you take me out for dinner and we'll have a chat, Louis?" 

If there was one thing in the world that Louis was the very worst at, it was using the word 'no' correctly in a sentence. 

So he nodded obediently and tried to dart his eyes away from Harry's questioning glance. Did Harry know he wasn't okay? It felt like he did and part of Louis wanted to use that and grasp onto it and not get into his car with Matt, but most of him knew that they weren't there yet. He didn't know anything about Harry, really, so he couldn't trust him. He could trust Matt. He knew all the parts of Matt inside and out and while they weren't all pretty, they were all familiar.  

He turned to Harry then, "thanks for walking me. Don't be late for class,"  

There was regret laced in every single word he said to Harry, but he couldn't just let him stay. Who knew where things were going to go?  

Harry must have thought he was pathetic. 

But he couldn't dwell on that.  

Harry turned in the direction of the school, like he wanted to leave. Louis pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his car. At the sound of the horn, Matt turned away from them and headed back to the car, pulling open the passenger side. Just as Louis was about the reluctantly follow, he felt Harry's hand on his shoulder. Harry leaned toward him, speaking closely to Louis' ear.  

"Are you okay?" 

It was so much more than just a simple question. It was that fantastic intuition that Harry seemed to have. He seemed to know a lot of things in a lot of the same ways as Terri. Even though he and Harry had spoken on about only 4 separate occasions, fifty percent of those being text messages, he seemed to know something. It was unsettling because everything inside of Louis wanted to answer with a no.  

But, Louis wasn't good at no.  

"I'm great," he said. 

Harry seemed to study him for a second, glancing back at the car and seeing Matt's gaze through the windshield. He nodded curtly one time, "have a good night, Lou," 

Watching Harry walk away from him in that moment was much harder than he imagined it would be. Much harder than it had a right to be, really. Had Harry just given him a _second_ nickname? He'd called him _Lou._ No one called him Lou. No one really addressed him much, anyway, but it was so personal and so familiar that Louis wanted to chase back after him. He wanted so much more than he would ever get.  

*** 

"Get dinner" had roughly translated into getting takeaway from Nando's and renting a hotel room. Louis had driven Matt across town to buy some coke. They were now both sitting in the hotel room while Matt ate and Louis flipped through channels. He didn't know what he was doing there. He didn't know what Lottie was going to think when he wasn't home to spend the night with her reading on his couch. He felt bad about that. He felt wrong, like he'd been transplanted back into a life that no longer belonged to him. 

Matt hadn't said much—he never said much. He and Louis had never really been the kind of friends that _talked._ Matt never wanted that—only if he was too drunk to hold it back or trapped in a flashback while he was chasing a high that he'd probably never reach. Matt carried a lot of darkness in him and Louis normally only got glances of it. Parts of him were thankful for that, but parts of him wished Matt would lay it all out so they could work through it together. But Matt didn't trust people—he didn't care for people, least of all, Louis. Louis was just a tool to get the things that numbed his pain. It hurt, but Louis was used to the sting.  

Louis stopped on the discovery channel and braved a glance up at Matt. He wasn't doing anything anymore. He was sitting at the small table, his food pushed aside and staring out the window. He looked— _emotional._ That wasn't a look he typically wore, so Louis looked away quickly, feeling like an intruder.  

"You left me in London," he didn't look at Louis as he spoke, he just continued to stare out the window.  

Louis didn't really have the fight or flight instinct. He didn't have _fight_. All he wanted to do was run. He felt like the room was caving in on him. Was there even a way to respond? Was he supposed to deny it? He'd rolled Matt over, payed for the room and fucked off to kill himself. The accusation was really just a statement of fact. He _had_ left Matt in London.  

Louis stared at the door, debating what it would take for him to leave there safely. There was a whole world waiting outside of that door and he'd never in his life been more aware of that. He'd let down Lottie and he'd made Harry question his sanity. There was so much waiting out there and he really wanted to get to it. Tomorrow was a big day and he wasn't going to miss it. He was going to Bio lecture tomorrow and he was going to see Terri. These weren't things that were up for negotiation any longer. He didn't want to let them down. He didn't want to hear Terri say she'd told him he wasn't ready. He didn't want to disappoint her by making the wrong choices.  

"Why?" Matt was still staring out the window, not looking at Louis.  

There wasn't really a safe way to answer that question. He couldn't admit his weakness to Matt. He'd prey on it. Louis couldn't let Matt know that he'd broken him when he'd locked himself in that bathroom. He couldn't satisfy Matt with that fact. He also didn't want to tell him he'd only left because he was a coward and he'd tried to end his life. That was the only thing that could possibly be more pathetic than being so broken.  

"I don't know," 

Louis really didn't expect to hear I giant sob come out of Matt's throat, but everything in his life seemed to be changing rapidly, so why not one more thing? He still felt like it was about to turn. It was never pretty when Matt cried. It always got messy and angry and if it had been any other human being on earth, Louis wouldn't be thinking twice about running to his side and holding him and telling him it would be okay. 

But it was Matt, and Louis didn't really know if everything would be okay. He still didn't know if his own life was going to be okay. He couldn't offer advice to Matt. He couldn't lie to him and tell him the world was a pretty place that was going to finally make sense. Louis barely knew what the world even looked like for him. He couldn't guess what Matt might see. He wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. 

"I'm sorry," the words came out in between enormous sobs and it seemed like a dam had broken inside of Matt. Something was broken and he was bawling wildly like he'd been holding it back for _years_ and Louis really was _not_ cut out for this. He wasn't supposed to forgive him. He knew what Terri would say... 

But Terri didn't know it all. She didn't know the things that had made Matt react into the person he'd become. Louis barely knew any of those things. But he should _want_ to. He should be flattered that Matt wanted anything to do with him after the way he'd fucked off and left him with his misery.  

"I'm sorry, too," Louis voice was weak and tired and it was only ten at night but it felt like he'd lived three days in Matt's chaos—not just a few short hours.  

"I hurt you," the sobs were slowing now and Louis was eying the door. He didn't want to be in this moment.  

Louis swallowed against the lump in his throat, "I shouldn't have left," 

Matt turned from the window then and met Louis' gaze. His eyes were silver in the glow from the lamp next to him and Louis had honestly never seen this. He'd never imagined he'd see it. "You were the last person I expected to leave me," 

And there it was. There was the consolidation of all of Louis' regret. Matt trusted him, and while maybe he went about it in a twisted way, it was still there. He had no one else in the world and he'd been certain that Louis was the exception to that, but he'd been wrong because Louis left, too. 

Louis still wanted to leave. 

What did that say about him? Matt was here, breaking right in front of him and all he could think about was protecting himself. It wasn't fair and he wished that for one moment in his rotten existence that he could be something other than a complete and utter coward.  

"You weren't supposed to leave me, Louis. You were supposed to love me like nobody else has ever loved me,"  

Matt stood up then and Louis felt the fear prickle in every hair follicle in his body. He watched as Matt walked slowly over to him, and he was terrified because it could have gone a million different ways, but Louis didn't want any of them. He didn't want to get roughed up by Matt's anger, he didn't want to get torn apart by his words and he didn't want to get fooled by false kindness. He didn't want any of it, but he didn't have a choice and that was the scariest part for him.  

He thought about all of the pain inside of Matt and tried to imagine just how broken he was behind his guise. He tried to imagine how hurt he'd be if he knew what Louis was thinking. Cruel and broken as he could be, Matt was a human being and he deserved something more than pain and suffering. He deserved to be loved, but Louis didn't really have a clue how to do that. He didn't have a clue how to love himself and how to help himself and the very idea of helping Matt out of his darkness just seemed more and more impossible the deeper they went.  

But when he looked up and met Matt's teary eyes, Louis knew he couldn't run. He couldn't protect himself. Matt needed him and sometimes friendship was a sacrifice. Sometimes it meant taking the bad with the good. He had to remind himself of that. He'd do well to remember who had been there for him through everything. He owed Matt.  

"I'm sorry," 

Louis words seemed inadequate for the pain that Matt was expressing, but Louis didn't get it. He didn't know how to deal with emotions. He had spent his entire life running from them.  

"Fix it," 

Matt's voice broke on his words and Louis didn't have a clue what to do. He had no idea how to fix Matt. He had no idea if Matt had ever really even been _together_. He'd just been broken in a million different ways. Louis had no idea how to stich up all of his breaks.  

Louis stood then and pulled Matt into his arms. Louis didn't think they'd ever hugged before that moment. Not for real. Not while Louis was sober and Matt was crying. They hadn't really ever taken part in anything that could have been labeled "intimate". It felt awkward and wrong, and Louis knew that he was probably too rigid and that he probably should have rocked back and forth and known something soothing to say, but Matt wasn't really carrying his weight either. He hadn't opened up to Louis, he just stood rigid and sobbing between Louis' arms and it was probably the worst hug that any two people had ever had.  

And so, Louis wasn't really "fixing it" at all. He was just holding onto Matt while he sobbed and it was pretty much destined to fail. He dropped his arms quickly and tried to make his way back to the bed, but Matt captured his wrist.  

"So you just thought you'd kill yourself to get away from me, is that it?" 

Matt's tone was way closer to what Louis was used to. It was grating and raspy and his emotion had stopped as efficiently as if he'd shut off a tap.  

It had all been a show. A web that he spun to trap Louis there. Now, he was going to eat him alive and Louis had no way out. He'd fallen for it, for the millionth time. He'd fallen for the idea that Matt wanted his humanity. But Matt didn't want it. He did everything he possibly could to stifle any tiny glimpse of it.  

"Doncaster isn't that big, darling, people talk," his grip tightened around Louis' wrist more as he spoke, and it hurt. Louis hurt and he wanted to cry out, but he knew that just made it worse, "I know you spent a week with the crazies. Now you fancied yourself to be a changed man, is that it? Now you're too good for your pathetic orphan friend?" 

Louis shook his head back and forth desperately.  

"You're pathetic Louis. What, you had too much handed to you? Couldn't handle being the rich boy and having cars and credit cards stuffed down your throat?" Matt's laughter was scary and dark, "you think you've been through hell, but you haven't seen a fucking thing. Every night you get to go home to your big beautiful mansion and your chefs and housekeepers. You don't know what its like to suffer. You haven't got a clue, because you didn't grow up in the real world. You've never spent a night on a park bench, you've always been able to run home to Mummy, she's always sheltered you. You don't have a fucking clue, Louis, you're fucking pathetic," 

Louis didn't need to say anything else, because Matt had said it all. There wasn't a thing left inside of him to say, because Matt knew darkness that Louis couldn't imagine, and that was just the reality of it. He knew that Matt had always been worse off, this wasn't ground-breaking, it was just hard to have piled on him all at once when he was being pulled in 10 different directions by all of the people in his life. Terri and Lottie had been trying to build him up, trying to let him accept his pain and work through it, but Matt? He was not going to justify Louis' pain for a second because he'd been through so much more. Louis _should_ have been able to get over it. He should have been able to take the silver spoon from his mouth and grow the fuck up and become something other than the sad, pathetic, broken thing that he was. He should have been able to stand up and make it through life. He'd never actually experienced a real hardship—Matt was right about that.  

So how was he supposed to argue? It _was_ embarrassing and pathetic of him to try to kill himself when there were people like Matt out there who had suffered tenfold what Louis had. He had no right so feel the way he felt.  

But he did, and that made it so much easier to shrink himself against Matt's touch and his words.  

… 

Louis snatched his phone quickly as he brushed passed the end table. It was six in the morning and Matt was still fast asleep. He felt a panicked sort of rush because class was at 10 and he was supposed to meet Terri at 2. Today was supposed to go a completely different way than it had started. It wasn't supposed to start with him waking up naked and ashamed on the couch in a hotel room. It wasn't supposed to start with a disgusting amount of self hatred in his stomach for how weak he'd been. For how, for the millionth time, he'd not been able to stand up for himself.  

He'd fallen asleep crying as silently as he possibly could, because if Matt knew he'd broken him, things would get worse. They were always worse when Louis was vulnerable. So he always pretended. He always said 'yes' because 'no' was weak and it invited Matt to do much cruller and nastier things.  

He felt disgusted in himself. He was dirty and tainted by Matt's cruelty and the only thing that could make that feeling worse was knowing that he had to face Harry _and_ Terri. Knowing that Harry would easily see he was dressed in yesterday's clothes and reeked of sex and sin. Terri, too, she'd see right through him. She always did, and this time was going to be so much worse than the others.  

Beyond that, once he did go home (if Matt didn't strong arm him again by showing up on the hood of his car), he'd have to face Lottie and all of his broken promises to her. She'd believed in him. She'd told him she thought the rest of the world was wrong and that he was really worth something, but he'd gone to prove her wrong, hadn't he? She'd probably worried all night long about where he was before she'd eventually decided that everyone had, in fact been right. Louis was a giant let-down. A train wreck in constant motion.  

And he'd so badly wanted to be the things she'd seen in him. He'd wanted to believe that maybe the rest of the world really was wrong, and that there was something good inside of him, but he'd chosen darkness again. It had pulled him back and he'd gotten lost in the undercurrent that was of the upmost familiarity to him by that point. He'd broken promises to a little girl. How fucked up was that? 

Worst of all was that he hadn't even gotten anything out of it. He'd given up the potential for conversation with Harry to get fucked until he cried in some sleazy hotel room by a guy who had literally called him down to the dirt as foreplay. He'd left his little sister to sit alone on his couch thinking god knew what about her brother. He'd let Terri down because he hadn't been strong at all.  

And now he had to go and face up to all of these disappointments. He had to sit in bio lecture with Harry's eyes on him. He had to face the fact that Harry had seen what his life was really like. Harry had foolishly thought that he'd seen something good in Louis, but he'd been wrong. He'd been maybe the first ever person to be wrong about Louis. Everyone else had always just known he was trash. 

Louis didn't think he could cry anymore. He'd been awake most of the night trembling with the sobs he worked to keep inside of his chest. Matt had slept like a baby in the king sized bed while Louis had broken apart completely on the sofa. Naked and rotten with regret.  

Nothing made him feel as dirty as what Matt did to him, so he knew before he could ever face up to the three people he needed to, he had to get clean. The task was impossible, but he was going to try. He stepped into the scalding hot water and brought the soap to his skin. Louis was never satisfied until he'd scrubbed at least a few entire layers of skin off of himself. He never truly felt clean, and he knew that maybe that was a bit crazy, but when measured up with everything else in his life, he figured it was fine. It was almost normal for Louis to spend an hour in the shower removing layers of his filth.  

Sure, technically, it was _Louis'_ body, but it rarely felt like that. It felt like an object he used to deflect real pain. It was just something he and Matt used as an outlet. It wasn't a sanctuary or something he took pride in, it was just a means to an end. He didn't own it any more than he owned Matt's. That's why he never felt a real attachment to it, and why he worked to hard to remove parts of it. He didn't like being trapped inside of a living reminder of his mistakes.  

When he'd stepped out of the shower and started to dry himself off, he braved a glance down at his phone. There were countless texts from Lottie. He'd read those eventually, but what first captured his attention were the two from **_Curly._**  

Immediately, Louis unlocked his screen and pulled open his conversation with Harry. The first message made his heart lurch. He'd sent it just after his last class had started—after Louis had left with Matt.  

 ** _Curly: Take care tonight. Text me if you need anything._**  

Oh, god. Louis felt like he was breaking again. He wanted to cry because Harry _knew._ He'd seen him go off with Matt and somehow he'd known that it was bad. He'd known that Louis wasn't okay. That he'd needed someone. The second text, though, made Louis smile again, despite the fact that he'd been convinced smiling again was impossible.  

 ** _Curly: PS: your car is a 'she' and her name is Marsha._**  

 


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis faces the three people who give a shit.

Louis was sitting alone in the second row of his bio lecture. No one else had arrived yet, and he bounced his leg up and down nervously. He looked like shit. He hadn't slept at all, and he felt disgusting sitting there in yesterday's clothes. They were soiled, having been torn from his body in anger by Matt. His whole being my soiled. His heart was poisoned by the callous way Matt had fucked him.  

Sitting in that seat, knowing other people were coming, that he'd be seen like this, made him anxious. Knowing that Harry, of all the people in the world, was going to see him like this? That made him more than anxious. It made him sick to his stomach. He was disgusting and Harry was going to know that.  

Honestly, he hated that he felt such an obligation to Harry. If it weren't for him being his partner, Louis would have never come to that class. He wouldn't be sitting there in his filth, waiting for Harry so he could pretend he was okay.  

The whole thing was fucked up and a large part of him wished Harry had never bothered. If he'd never been nice to Louis, Louis wouldn't have had to be sitting there.  

Harry's friends came in first and Louis hoped that maybe Harry would just wave to him and sit with them. That would have made his life so much simpler.  

But, Harry came in just a minute before the professor and he made a beeline straight for Louis. He had a smile on his face and two teas in his hands, but it didn't seem like he was fully convinced. Louis felt sick again. Harry could probably see how broken Louis was. How thoroughly fucked up he was. He probably regretted his choice to sit next to him. Louis was a mess.  

"Hey," said Harry so soft that Louis nearly missed it. This was the part were Louis needed to fake a smile. Harry pushed a takeaway cup toward him, "just a bit of milk," 

Louis hadn't used his voice at all that day. He hadn't spoken to a single soul, so when he opened his mouth to thank Harry for once again being the most thoughtful human being on earth, his voice was scratchy. He probably still wasn't fully recovered from crying for most of the night.  

"You didn't have to," he said.  

"But I wanted to,"  

Louis hoped his smile was less pathetic than it felt, "thank you," 

Their prof cleared his throat then, signalling that lecture was starting. Louis tore his eyes away from Harry, but even as he stared at the front of the room, he felt Harry's eyes on him. He wondered what Harry must have thought about the sight before him. Louis had clearly been fucked hard for most of the night, and he was sure that anyone looking at him could see the shame on his skin. He'd barely pulled himself together, hadn't even changed his clothes. Harry was probably now realizing that Louis was a lot more to sign up for than he'd initially thought. Their professor's words, Niall's warnings, they were probably all starting to make sense to him now. He was probably seeing Louis for real now. Louis tried to stifle the part of him that was disappointed that it had to happen so soon.  

 

Halfway through lecture, their professor left the room. Harry turned to him immediately. Louis had felt Harry's gaze on him for most of the lecture, but now that Harry was actually looking at him and Louis was looking back, he realized _what_  Harry was staring at. His eyes were on the part of Louis bicep that his tshirt exposed. Stupid Louis had been so concerned with everything else that he'd forgotten to even notice the bruising there. The worst part was that he couldn't even attempt to pass it off as something else. It was a handprint shaped bruise that was very clearly put there by someone who had grabbed him too hard. And now Harry could see it. He could see how easily Louis submitted to anyone who asked 

He felt his face flaming with blush and he hoped there was a jumper in the bottom of his backpack. He still had to see Terri after this, and Harry might have been able to avoid saying something, but Terri never would. He started to dig desperately through his bag, but there was nothing in there. There was no way to hide himself from Harry. There probably wasn't even a point now, anyway. Harry'd already seen it. The damage was done.  He stared at his computer screen. It was about to die, he hadn't charged it last night, and any minute he'd have nothing to shield himself from Harry's stares with.  

"Louis?"  

It felt impossible to swallow, let alone to form a response. So he just nodded once. Please, god, don't let Harry ask questions he couldn't answer.  

"Are you okay?"  

Louis still didn't look up. He couldn't do it. He knew Harry's eyes were on him but he couldnt do it. He could barely handle the pity from Terri, and she knew so much more.  

"Great," his voice kind of cracked on the word and fuck, he was a mess right in front of the only person in the world he'd ever wanted to  _not_ be a mess in front of, "I'm good," the extra words weren't necessary. Harry probably already knew he was a rotten liar.  

Harry cleared his throat and Louis could practically feel the second Harry's eyes left him. He braved a glance over at him and Harry was just staring blankly at the desk, looking like he was facing some kind of intense internal debate.  

Thankfully, before things could go any further, their prof walked back into the classroom.  

   
 

The rest of lecture passed smoothly, save from the fact that the only thing Louis could think about was the mark on his arm. Everyone else in the world would have just looked passed it and it bothered him that Harry didn't. Anyone else would probably have written it off as being Louis' own fault. He put himself in stupid situations, so mishaps were bound to happen. They were a part of the gig he'd signed up for.  

The moment he saw their professor starting to wrap up the lesson, Louis started rushing to pack just things. Fuck poetry, he wasn't going to another class like this. Maybe he wasn't going to go to another class at all. Thankfully it was Friday and he would have the entire weekend to unwind and hopefully regain some fucking control of the spiral he was in.  

Harry didn't share his desperation to leave, though and as soon as Louis flung his bag over his shoulder and got ready to bolt, he reached out his hand and touched Louis' wrist. Normally, Louis pulled away from physical gestures because he knew he fell too easily for them. He knew they were usually a manipulation technique. But Harry was different. It didn't really bother him when Harry did it because he honestly didn't believe that Harry had a manipulative bone in his body.  

"Lou?" He said the nickname again and Louis felt sick.  

"Yeah?" 

"Do you have class after this?" 

Louis but his lip as he stared at the ground, "I wasn't going to go," he admitted and it was a bit shameful, but he honestly couldn't do it. He needed to go home and change and pull it together for Terri. He couldn't handle sitting through another class in the state he was in.  

"Would you walk me to mine?"  

Louis didn't do 'no', so he nodded.  

Niall appeared behind Harry before either of them could say another word. Louis was really not in the place to deal with the look Niall was giving him. It was like by just standing near Harry he was in the wrong and he hated it. Harry was fine, he never made him feel like a lesser person, but everyone else did. He didn't need to be constantly reminded just how lucky he was to have Harry around.  

"You coming?" Asked Niall, and Louis was pretty certain that he was only talking to Harry.  

Harry was a bit pale and distressed looking, but Louis saw as he turned on some kind of charm and turned around to Niall. He smiled, "I'm actually gonna walk with Louis to my next class,"  

Harry made it sound like there was nothing strange happening, despite the fact that the pained expression had come right back onto his face the moment he turned back to Louis. It hadn't even been two weeks since they'd first spoken and Louis had already done that. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Harry was upset about something else. He knew it was him. It was always him. He was always breaking people, always breaking himself.  

Niall muttered something as he walked off with the other two friends. Louis missed what he said, but the way Harry clenched his teeth together made Louis think maybe he should be thankful he missed it.  

Harry didn't say anything else before he turned to walk out of the lecture hall. Louis followed behind him, his head bowed toward the ground. Everyone knew he didn't belong next to Harry. He didn't know  why he couldn't just say no. He didn't understand why he kept throwing himself into these situations.  

But then Harry spoke and he remembered.  

"I'm glad you came to bio," he seemed like he was perpetually grazing over the things he really wanted to say, but Louis was grateful for that, "I can tell you're not feeling... well," 

Louis cleared his throat, "right," 

"Did you..." Harry hesitated, "how was your night?" 

"Good," Louis lied, "great. How was yours?" 

"Did you and Matt go out for dinner?" 

Louis felt like he'd just taken a knife to the spine. He cringed at the way it sounded when Harry spoke Matt's name. They belonged in two separate universes, not twirling around in same orbit.  

Louis nodded first before he realized that Harry couldn't see. "Yeah," 

Harry turned down a hallway and led them to the stairwell. Louis followed, a stride behind him the whole time, until Harry stopped abruptly. Louis slammed into his back and Harry's hands immediately reached out and steadied him.  

The stairwell was completely silent aside from the sound of Harry tapping his foot. Why did he seem so jittery, and why had he led Louis here?  

"Are we friends?" Harry asked out of the blue.  

Louis didn't really know how to answer that. He'd never been  _asked_ that.  

"I," Louis braved a glance up at Harry, "I don't understand," 

"I just," Harry exhaled, "whatever's going on with you, I want to help..." 

"Nothing is going on with me," 

The lie slipped out of Louis mouth mechanically, it was well rehearsed and he'd told it a million and one times. He protected himself. He wouldn't let external forces break him more than he already was. He'd lie until everyone believed it. It had worked time and time again and he had no reason to believe that it wouldn't work on Harry. Harry, who he wanted to keep safe from his dirty secrets and rotten choices. Harry who was still staring straight through him like he didn't believe a word he said.  

"Are you hanging out with Matt tonight?" 

God, he just kept saying that word. It just kept slicing into Louis. He hated all of it.  

"I don't know," 

"Well, can I..." Harry paused again, "I work at 5 tonight. Would you want to drop by and hang out? It's always dead on Friday nights and I think it'd be nice to have you there," 

Alright. Talking to him after class was one thing. Giving Louis his number, that had been another thing. Actually texting him? Asking him to walk him to class and around campus? Those had been icing. They'd been too much for Louis to grasp all together, but this? An invitation for an activity that didn't even have the pretence of school behind it? That was another thing completely.  

Did Harry just genuinely want to hang out with him? Or, as Louis suspected strongly, did it just have to do with that damn bruise? Was Harry just trying to keep him out of trouble so he didn't have to deal with his own guilt? Louis wanted to ask. But he also really wanted to say yes and fuck the reason why.  

"Umm," Louis started, really not wanting to actually look at Harry, "yeah, okay," 

Harry's eyes actually lit up when his smile took over his face, "really?" 

Louis nodded, "really," he confirmed.  

Harry reached out to him and looked like he didn't have a clue what to do with his hands. So, he quickly grabbed Louis' left hand and gave it the briefest squeeze and smiled happily, "great! Just don't set your coffee expectations too high," 

Louis was smiling now too and he wished he knew what to say but he didn't have a clue.  He never had a clue.  

   
 

It was still the middle of the day, so when Louis got to his house he knew he wasn't going to have to deal with Lottie just yet, and that was good because he had to deal with Terri first. At the moment, he wasn't sure who he felt most horrified about. He showered and tried to finish scrubbing the rest of the previous night off of him. He dressed himself in something that would actually hide the evidence, even though he felt pretty confident it was futile. Terri would probably know and he kind of wanted to tell her. 

This was a big change for him. Up until then he'd preferred to have her guess things. Had preferred not to deal with shit at all, honestly. And it wasn't that he wanted to deal with it, per say, he just wanted to get it out of him. To share some of his demons with Terri so that he didn't have to carry them on his own. Maybe that wasn't fair of him, but he'd been exhausted for so long that it felt like he didn't have a real choice. He had to let some of it go if he was supposed to keep facing the days as then came (because they just kept coming, and they just kept bringing more and more strange and wonderful things with them). 

   
 

When he walked through the door of Terri's office she looked at him. Louis felt pretty certain that she'd chosen to be a therapist because she had a supernatural gift to see directly through people.  

"Can we hug?" She asked  

Louis nodded and he felt Terri wrap her arms tightly around him. She was much better at this than Louis was. He thought back to last night when he'd wrapped his rigid arms around Matt and how Matt hadn't even reacted. Maybe if he was better he could have actually helped Matt. Maybe if he had a clue how to deal with anything, Matt wouldn't have turned on him.  

He sobbed then, a loud unmistakable sound. Terri held him tighter then, waiting for the avalanche to happen.  

And it did. Tears started to pour from Louis eyes and he realized he'd never had this before. All he'd ever had was himself. He'd only ever broken like this when there was no possible way someone could see. He'd saved all of his pain and felt it on his own for so long that he was overwhelmed having Terri see it. Having her arms wrapped around him like she gave a fuck.  

It was exhausting. He felt like he'd already been through so much that day that it wasn't fair that he had to do this too. It wasn't fair that with everything else, now he had to actually face it. Like living through it, like dealing with Harry hadn't been enough. Louis was getting fairly used to humiliation by that point and he felt pretty shit about that, too. It wasn't fair that he had to keep on like this. Surely somehow, some day, things were going to improve. Surely at some point he wasn't going to have to feel like this _all the time._  

Their hug lasted a long time. Louis wondered, when they finally pulled apart, if he'd not wasted their entire session bawling in her arms. It seemed like he could have, but, when she finally let him go, she helped him take a seat on one of the bean bag chairs. Once she was settled in her own, she put her hand softly on Louis' knee.  

"Louis, sweetheart, tell me what happened," 

Louis felt his bottom lip tremble before he sucked in a breath (along with his pride) and said, "I fucked up. I fucked it all up," 

"What  _happened_?" She urged. 

Louis hiccupped once, "he came back and I wasn't ready,"  

"What did he do?" 

Louis couldn't look at her anymore so he bowed his head and shut his eyes, "nothing... different," 

She squeezed his knee softly, "I know it doesn't feel like it, but we're going to get passed this, okay?" 

Louis just wanted to cry again. He was stuck. He didn't know if he wanted to keep things to himself and pretend as he had his entire life that he didn't need anyone, or if he just wanted to spill all of it. If he wanted to let Terri see every single insecurity he had so she could understand. So she could know all the reasons why he still wasn't sure that he wanted to be alive. As pathetic and weak as it was for him to admit, dying still looked a lot easier to him than facing any of it.  

"He knew I stayed here. He knew I... tried to end it," his voice cracked a little, "I think everyone knows I was here," 

"Being here makes you brave," 

"Being here makes me crazy," 

"I stayed here, do you think I'm crazy?" 

Louis met her eyes, "that was different," 

She shook her head, "it wasn't different at all, actually. I almost died and I needed someone to help me sort out the pain I was in. Same as you," she touched his knee again softly, "you've been nothing  _but_  brave," 

Louis fell silent then, contemplating her words. He certainly felt a millions different things before he felt brave. He didn't see the bravery in any of it, actually. He'd met Terri for the sole reason that he'd been an complete coward. If he hadn't of spent his entire life running, he'd never have broken enough to land himself in a mental hospital in the first place.  

The whole bloody thing was so messed up that Louis couldn't separate the opinion Terri had from the one Matt had. Of course he wanted to believe that Terri was right, it was a much prettier picture, but it was more likely that Matt was right.  

If Louis could have just been better, if he could have been a sweeter child, a smarter person in general, maybe it would have never gotten to this point. If there was just something about him that was better and more remarkable, his family would have _seen_ him and he wouldn't have fallen into this trap. He wouldn't have had to seek something to numb the disappointment he felt in himself.  

"Matt's right about me, though," 

"I seriously doubt that," 

Louis sighed, "I have had everything handed to me my whole life. I've had everything I've ever wanted and it was never enough. That's fucked up," 

"Nobody's pain is more justified than someone else's. Yours is just as valid as his," 

"But he's been through so much more than me. I have everything. I shouldn't be like this," 

Terri sighed slowly, "yes, but what about the things you don't have? Can we talk about that?" 

Louis shook his head. He had a feeling where he knew she would take that. He didn't want to go there, like, ever.  

"Well, can we talk about why you think Matt's pain is justified when yours isn't? What happened in his life that makes it okay for him to treat you the way he treats you?" 

"I don't know everything," admitted Louis, "we've never talked much. It's never been like that. I just know what he's let slip" 

It kind of felt stupid to say out loud. Louis and Matt had spent all of their time together for 6 years but he didn't really know anything. Really, he'd never actually asked. He'd always been pretty aware of the fact that it was never like that for Matt. Matt had never been looking for someone to open up to, or to save him. He'd been looking for someone to help him forget, and maybe Louis had been looking for that same thing.  

"Well, tell me about Matt's family," tried Terri.  

"He doesn't have one,"  

Terri nodded slowly, "do you know what happened?"  

"Both of his parents used. His dad overdosed before he was born. His mum died when he was pretty young too," 

"Who raised him?"  

"He was in the foster system. I think they kept putting him in pretty crappy homes. He slept at my place a lot until my mum banned him. Now, I think he just sleeps anywhere. It's been like that for years,"  

"Can I say something?" 

Louis nodded once, 

"It sounds like you and Matt have similar lives," 

Louis raised an eyebrow at her. They weren't similar at all, really.  

"I know you don't think that, but there's similarities there. Neither of you knew your fathers," 

"That's not the same, I have a house. I have a family," 

"You have a family that forgets about you," 

...   
 

When Louis walked through the door of his house, he felt like he weighed so much more than he had the previous day. Terri had filled him with a million more thoughts. There were a million things running through his mind and she'd known he probably wouldn't make it through the weekend without some kind of push, so Louis was now in possession of her email address. Of course, she'd recommended that he stay far away from Matt, and he'd promised to try, but Louis was weak.  

The second that the front door closed, Louis began his famously silent walk toward his bedroom. He climbed the stairs carefully and almost made to his bedroom door before he heard Lottie's shrill voice call after him.  

" _Louis_ ," her voice was angry and it was a different level than he was used to.  

He hadn't even gotten a second to debrief over what Terri and him had spoken about and now he had to deal with this, too. He wasn't ready for any of it, but Harry, Terri, Lottie, they just kept coming at him in rapid succession and he was already mostly too exhausted to deal with any of it.   

He opened the door to his bedroom and Lottie shoved passed him and was screaming again before he even got the door shut.  

"What. The. _Fuck_ , Louis?" She demanded at the top of her lungs.  

Louis really didn't have a response for her.  

"I thought you were _dead_ ," she was still trying to scream but her voice cracked on the last word.  

"I'm sorry," it was a well rehearsed line that Louis just kept throwing at his sister over and over. He was sure it was losing its meaning by now, but he knew he still felt it. He _was_ sorry for letting her down again and again. For not even knowing that it had mattered to her for _years_.  

"I waited for you all night," 

He was so bad at this. He never knew what to say. He stared down at her and saw tears in her eyes. "I—" 

"Don't say you're sorry," this time she was crying, "I waited all night, Louis. You were with Matt, weren't you?" 

Over and over the people in his life kept on throwing this at him. They kept demanding and asking and it was more than overwhelming. How Lottie even knew about Matt was beyond him. He just wasn't ready to have so much change all at once. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. Why, after all this time was he being made accountable for his actions? He'd gone unnnoticed for so many years. 

"Lottie," he started, "you don't understand," 

"I'm not a fucking idiot Louis," and, wow, his thirteen year old sister sure had a mouth on her, "you were with him and you didn't come home and I..." she wiped at her tears, she was angry, "I thought you killed yourself, Louis," 

And, yeah, that was a pretty valid conclusion to jump to. It had only been three weeks since the last time he'd tried that. He knew Lottie was going to be upset, he'd been prepared for that, but he really hadn't thought it through. He hadn't considered the conclusion she would go to.  

"I was so mad, Louis," she ran the back of her hand over the tears angrily, "because you promised," 

"I'm sorry," 

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to stop doing it. I want you to sleep here, with me, every night," 

Louis was no fool. He wasn't about to make that promise. He couldn't make that promise. Most of the time, for most of his life, hotel rooms had felt more like home than home ever had. He couldn't handle making a promise that would tie him to being stuck in that house every single night.  

"I can't do that, Lottie," his family didn't want him here. They welcomed the break. He didn't want to be there every night.  

"Why," there was rage beneath her words that Louis didn't understand. Why did she care so much, so suddenly? It was daunting.  

"Because I'm an adult. I have a life," Louis almost wanted to laugh at himself. He didn't really have a life. He didn't really have much. All he had was a constant desire to be somewhere else, to be someone else.  

She narrowed her eyes at him and he didn't think he'd ever seen such a cold, angry expression on  _anyone_ , let alone a tiny little girl like his sister, "buying drugs for that monster is not a life," 

Well, Jesus. Louis wasn't fooling anyone, was he? One day he'd been going on the same as he always had been, then, suddenly, everyone could see him. Worse than actually being invisible was being transparent. Everyone could see everything now, and Louis wasn't sure what exactly had changed, but he resented it.  

"I'm serious, Louis. You're always trying to kill yourself and I hate it. I just want you to be my brother, for once in your life, just fucking stay here," 

Still, with every word she said he knew that he couldn't make her a promise. He wanted to. He wanted to admit she was right and promise her he was finished being an idiot with Matt, but he wasn't. He didn't know if he could be finished. He still cared too much. He still needed the companionship. He still needed the validation that someone out there wanted him.  

"Look, Lottie, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't here but I didn't know you wanted that," 

"Well I'm telling you now," she let out a sigh and dropped onto his couch. She picked up the green book that was laying there and threw it at him.  

Louis caught it and looked down. _The Perks of being a Wallflower_. Lottie had been reading it all week at Louis' recommendation. He opened it to the piece of paper that was wedged in as a bookmark. There, on the piece of paper in Lottie's perfect hand writing said a quote from the book, _we accept the love we think we deserve._

He held the page in his hand and stared at the words for a long time. He'd read the book at least a dozen times when he'd been younger, and he'd always thought the line was overrated. There were so many better points in the novel, but that was always the one people clung to.  

"If that's true, Louis, you should just know that you deserve better,"  

He nearly choked on the lack of response he had for his sister.  

She beat him to a response and changed the subject then, "that's where I left off. I like it better when you read to me,"  

… 

It was half passed six and Louis was still reading to Lottie when he heard his phone chime. Previously, Lottie had looked so content and sleepy that Louis wondered if he hadn't already lost her to sleep, but at the sound of his phone, she shot upright. Louis wanted to ignore it, mostly because he really didn't want to address the look on her face, but also because he didn't want this day to stretch on any longer. He needed to tap out because he was beyond emotionally exhausted. It was so much easier to just be lost in a novel, lost in the knowledge that it was the weekend and Lottie could fall asleep while he read and they could pick up from the same place in the morning. He wanted the peace. 

But, he felt himself reaching out to pick up the phone instinctively.  

 ** _Curly: Hope you didn't forget about me..._**  

 _Shit._ Louis had almost forgotten. He'd been so lost in Lottie's anger that he hadn't thought passed pleasing her. He'd forgotten the other promises he'd made. This day was probably going to haunt him for ages. He'd probably never get a real rest.  

But he didn't feel resentful of that, at least not toward Harry. He was terrified, yes, because what would they even talk about? Why was Harry so keen to have him hanging around, and was it all just because of the bruise? Louis might not ever be sure, but he wanted to go. He wanted to feel wanted.  

 ** _Louis: Not a chance, Curly. I'm still coming._**  

He locked his phone, dog-eared the page he was on and jumped out of his bed, grabbing for the nearest jumper. He'd almost forgotten that Lottie was there, that was until she spoke.  

"Oh, no, you don't!" She jumped up from the couch and followed him toward his door, "No, fucking way," 

The rage was back. Part of him was frightened at how well she did it.  

Louis shook his head, "I'm just going out for a bit," 

"No. Uh-uh, no way," she said, "I'm not falling for that," 

"Lots, I'm just—" 

"No," 

"It's nothing," he said, his hand on the doorknob.  

"If its nothing, you can take me," 

She was smart in her threat, because Louis would never have agreed to take her anywhere if it was Matt he was going to meet. He would have, sensibly, never let her anywhere near that sort of chaos, and she knew it. She knew how to play the cards.  

Louis met her eyes, "yeah," he said, "okay," 


	8. VIII

"Where are we going, anyway?" Said Lottie as she fiddled with the radio.  

"Starbucks,"  

"Starbucks?" Lottie sounded like it was the last answer on earth that she expected. Maybe it was.  

"Yeah, what did you expect?" 

She shrugged once, "well, not Starbucks," she said, staring over at him, "plus we've passed three," 

Louis shrugged.  

Lottie narrowed her eyes at him but didn't say another word. She always seemed so suspicious of him, and he couldn't really blame her. Louis had done a fair number of questionable things in his life.  

One of which was definitely visiting his too-sweet lab partner who had definitely already seen too much.  

   
 

When they pulled into the Starbucks parking lot, nerves sunk into Louis stomach. He'd already been through so much that day that most of him really didn't want to deal with the pity he knew he'd find in Harry's eyes. A large part of him was happy that he'd taken Lottie along. He probably needed the buffer and his saucy, chatty little sister would probably steal the show and he was more than comfortable with this knowledge. He needed Harry to have somewhere other than him to look.  

Lottie jumped out of the car way faster than Louis was ready to, but he followed suit. She wasn't giving him a chance to second guess anything. Before he even locked the car doors, she was walking into the store. Louis almost wished he had an ounce of her confidence. But he didn't, so he followed quietly behind her.  

As soon as they were through the doors, he noticed Harry standing behind the cash register smiling at them.  

Not knowing who Harry was, she marched over to counter and handed him her visa.  

"I'll get a venti, iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, sugar free syrup, extra shot, light ice, no whip, please," Harry blinked once at her and she looked over her shoulder to Louis, "what are you getting Louis?" 

Harry wasn't even looking at her anymore, he was staring at Louis and Louis was staring back at him. It took about a half a second before he saw the light bulb turn on in Lottie's head and he and Harry started to laugh at the same time.  

"Is this your sister?" 

Louis pressed his lips together to slow his laughter and nodded quietly, finally closing the distance to the counter.  

Lottie looked back at Louis then, with what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on her face, "who's this?" 

Louis didn't really get it. He didn't get any of it, especially not the look on Lottie's face when she realized he knew Harry. She was reading so much further into it than Louis could really handle. Who knew what she thought, but she was miles off and it left a bad feeling in Louis' stomach.  

Lottie thought he'd been hiding Harry from her, or that there was something deeper happening here, and it was so far from the truth. The truth was that it gave Louis heartburn.  

No, the real, honest reason he was here was because Harry felt bad for him. He'd seen a bit too deep into Louis' life and he wanted to keep his guilt at bay. He couldn't tell Lottie that, though, at least not in front of Harry.  

It was exhausting and he'd hit his limit hours ago.  

"I'm Harry," he announced proudly, smiling a perfect, dimply smile at Lottie, "and you are?" 

"Lottie," 

Harry picked up a cup then and a sharpie and wrote Lottie's name across the cup, "nice to meet you Lottie," he started, "I'm definitely going to need you to repeat that drink order though," 

Lottie grinned, about to pounce on Harry's weakness, when Louis somehow found his voice. 

"Why don't you get something normal, Lots, poor lad hasn't got a clue how to make whatever you just said," 

Louis met Harry's eyes then, and they seemed relaxed. They didn't seem full of pity, but then again, he'd just gotten there.  

"That was normal, _Louis_ ," she said his name with venom like he'd attacked her personally. She turned back to Harry then and repeated her order slowly as he scribbled it across the cup and hopped over to the work station. He started to make the drink and Louis watched him fumble with the syrup pump and nearly pour not one, but who of the wrong milks into the cup. Lottie shimmied down to the hand-off spot as she watched Harry carefully.  

After a long few minutes of fumbling and cursing, Harry placed the giant cup on the counter. She picked it up tentatively, stuffed her straw into it and took a long sip. Harry watched her hesitantly.  

"Perfect," she said.  

Harry smiled at her happily and turned back to Louis. He smiled brighter this time, "what can I get you, Lou?" 

Louis kind of felt like the world had stopped and everyone was staring at him (which wasn't entirely inaccurate given that both Harry and Lottie were staring at him and they were the only ones in the building). Louis felt his cheeks heat with his blush, he hated the spotlight. Dreaded it. He hated the sound of his voice when he opened his mouth and ruined the stillness in the air. 

"Um," he sucked in a deep breath, staring at the coffee options, "just a tall Pike Place, please," 

"Really?" Said Harry, softly--always so soft.  

Louis nodded once, "really," 

"Is that what you'd usually order, or are you just taking it easy on me?" 

"Actually, yeah it is," 

Harry shrugged and grabbed a cup and his sharpie, scribbling on it. He filled it with coffee and then placed it on the counter. Louis picked it up and smiled as he looked down and saw Harry had written "cheekbones" on it.  

"Thanks, Curly," he said, trying to reign in his psychotic smile a bit.  

"You guys are weird," said Lottie, carrying her ridiculous drink over to one of the tables.  

Harry laughed, still smiling at Louis from behind the counter. He picked up Lottie's Visa from where he'd laid it by the cash register and handed it to Louis.  

"Those are on the house,"  

"We can pay for the drinks, Harry," argued Louis. 

Harry brushed his words off with his hand, "what's the point of having a friend that works at Starbucks if you have to pay for your drinks?" 

There was that word again. The last word in the world that Louis ever expected to have directed at him. He was pretty sure he was blushing again, but what was another mortifying moment in front of Harry at this point?  

He noticed Harry's eyes were on Lottie again. She had the book out again and she was already reading and sipping her.... whatever that drink was. Harry smiled fondly and looked back to Louis, "she's sweet," 

"Sweet isn't the word I'd pick," he hoped Harry picked up on his sarcasm, "she's a lot," 

"My sister too. Proper pain in the ass, but I miss her every day," 

"What's her name?" Asked Louis as Harry walked from behind the counter and gestured to one of the tables.  

"Gemma," he said, smiling and leading Louis to the table.  

Louis put down his coffee and took a seat. He couldn't really believe that after everything he'd gone through that day that he'd somehow wound up sitting here at Harry's work, sipping coffee and chatting like this was a normal occurrence in his life. He didn't hate it... it was just strange and unfamiliar and he was far beyond his comfort zone (did he even have a comfort zone?).  

"She's older," said Harry, unprompted, "and she left for uni in London a few years ago. I never stopped missing her, though. She's the best big sister," 

Louis smiled, because everything about Harry was sweet, wasn't it? He loved his sister in a way that seemed pretty foreign to Louis. He was learning, maybe, but it didn't come natural to him the way it did to Harry. If he was honest, Louis didn't really know what to do with an emotion like that. He'd never felt something about anyone that went that deep. His whole life had been and endless struggle to hold on. It seemed so basic, but there wasn't a single person out there that had given him a reason to consider anything more. He'd tried so hard to just let go of any expectation he had. Love was something that was a complete mystery to Louis. He'd never felt it and he'd never had it given to him.  

And then here was Harry, gushing over how easily it all came to him. Louis wasn't sure if it was jealousy or rotten loneliness that sunk into his gut--but it burned.  

"What about Lottie, how old is she?" 

Louis pulled himself out of his thoughts and braved a glance at Harry's eyes, "thirteen," 

"So are you the oldest?" 

Louis nodded once. He really hated this topic but he didn't know how to steer it.  

Harry was quiet for a moment, just watching Louis thoughtfully. Harry's intuition was fantastic and he jumped to a new subject quickly.  

"She seems a lot like you," Harry was watching Lottie, now. 

Harry probably meant nothing by the comment and Louis wanted to let it slide, but he also really didn't want Harry to think  so little of his sister. They were nothing alike. Louis was a fucked up train-wreck of a person, constantly making wrong choice after wrong choice and Lottie was anything but that.  

"No, not at all,"  

Harry frowned, "that's not a bad thing, I'm just observing. She likes to read like you," 

"Chill out, Louis," Lottie called from her table. She got up quickly, clearly seeing that Louis had doomed the conversation with his perpetual stormcloud of a brain. She pulled out the chair next to Louis and sat down, "I don't think he's trying to insult you," 

Harry was shaking his head back and forth aggressively.  

"But yeah," said Lottie, "Louis has always loved reading, as long as I can remember," and what was Lottie _doing_? "And I wanted to be like him, so I started. He reads to me a lot, and that's even better," 

Harry's smile was so fond, so genuine and Louis realized that he was blushing aggressively. He wanted to be a million different places other than this spot that had him the centre of attention. But he also wanted to do anything but disappoint Harry. He was stuck.  

Lottie was acting like it had been more than three weeks that they'd been siblings. She was making Louis sound much better than he actually was.  

"Gemma did that for me too, when I was little," 

"She sounds great," Louis had to jump on the opportunity to turn the spotlight literally anywhere else.  

Harry smiled with full dimples again, "she is. I can hardly wait for Christmas, I haven't seen her in months," 

   
 

Much to Louis' relief, he was able to keep most of the evenings conversation focused on Harry. Lottie helped--a lot. Conversation seemed to come easily to both of them, and Louis wanted to analyze that, but he found himself lost in it. He laughed as they teased each other and tried to make note of how they did it so easily.  

Everything was kind of perfect and kind of nice. No one else had entered the cafe since Louis and Lottie. Harry had just happily sat at the table with them talking about anything and everything with Lottie.  

It was approaching nine and it was around then that Louis started to notice Lottie's yawns.  

He looked up from his cold, half empty coffee (which he had been trying to focus on instead of Harry) and spoke "what time are you off at?" 

"Ten," Harry's response was quick.  

"Um," said Louis, "would you want a ride home?" 

Louis could hardly believe he'd let the words out of his mouth. He was shocked at how quickly they'd come. It wasnt that he didn't mean it, he _wanted_ to give Harry a ride, if only to extend their time together. But it was terrifying, those few seconds where he'd given Harry the option to decline. He could have easily said no, and that prospect was horrifying. It wasn't something he'd normally ask. It seemed so small and so obvious and if it were anyone else in the world besides Louis asking, it would have seemed so normal.  

But, Louis didn't ask that sort of thing. He didn't put himself into a position to be turned down. It had literally never happened because, while Louis was not good with the word 'no', everyone in his life seemed to be. No one said yes to Louis. It wasn't how things worked.  

A sick, anxious feeling brewed in his stomach and he could feel his face flushing. Lottie grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it and thank fuck for Lottie. She made everything so much easier.  

"Really?" Asked Harry, that easy smile on his face as usual.  

"Only if you want," 

"That would be great, thank-you, Lou," 

Louis nodded once, "I think I'm gonna drop Lottie off at home and come back and get you," 

Lottie looked up to him quickly and looked like she was going to argue, but then she calmed herself and nodded, "I'm tired,"  

They heard the chime above the door sound and Harry jumped from his seat.  

"You slacking in here, Haz?" The booming voice was loud and Irish and unmistakably Niall.  

It took Niall a solid three seconds before he noticed who Harry was sitting with. He shot harry a questioning glance and then looked to Louis.  

"Tomlinson," he said, "didn't realize cheap coffee chains were your thing," 

"Shut up, Niall," said Harry, giving him a panicked look.  

It was definitely, without a single doubt, time for Louis to leave.  

Louis stood up and walked toward the door, hearing Lottie follow suit. They were nearly to the door before he heard Harry.  

"Wait,"  

Louis turned to face him and nearly froze under the ice of Niall's glare.  

"Are you going to come back?" 

Louis tried to look past Niall and see what Harry wanted, but he couldn't ever really be sure because logic didn't seem to apply with Harry.  

"If you want," 

Harry nodded quickly, "I want," 

And Louis smiled despite himself, "see you at ten," 

 

Between the time that he dropped Lottie off in the driveway and 9:59 pm, Louis had approximately 70 breakdowns. He wanted things to come easier to him, but they didn't. His life was a mess and Harry was some kind of beacon of hope out in the middle of the ocean that Louis had been swimming in for a long time. And the thing was, that Louis knew better than to let himself hope, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help but let himself get excited. He wasn't sure what it was about Harry, but he craved it as much as he hated it. He knew the whole thing was doomed, and that the level of hope he'd already delved into was going to crush him from the inside out eventually, but he couldn't back away.  

So, he put his car into drive and turned the corner, finally leaving the side-street he'd been hiding on for the past 10 minutes. He would not back out of this. He would not let himself be the one who let Harry down.  

He parked close to the front door and tried to stare at the radio on his dash instead of out his window. He was insanely aware of the fact that Harry could have already left with Niall. That he could have changed his mind a hundred times over about going home with Louis. Louis would understand that. Objectively, getting into a car with someone with the reputation that Louis had, was a pretty dumb idea. Even though a big part of Louis knew that those were mistakes of his past and not his present, he still felt them. They still felt like the person he was. He was still a complete mess, maybe more so now than he'd even been. At least before he'd had direction. He'd been running straight into the ground, but now? Now he was running in 100 different directions and none of them really made sense to him. Self-destruction had come so much easier to him than trying to piece together the wreckage.  

And just as he had begun to get lost in his thoughts, he heard the passenger door open. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but tried to compose himself as he watched Harry duck into his car, an easy smile in place.  

"I feel like this is a special moment for us," he said as he dropped into the passenger seat.  

Louis was already panicking and he hadn't even attempted to drive yet. He was probably going to kill them both. What a fitting end to whatever this was they were doing. "Why?" 

"Because this is the first time I'm really getting to meet Marsha," Louis was laughing before Harry even got to finish his thought because he'd _forgotten._ He'd forgotten how funny and quirky Harry was. He'd been so lost in his own chaos he hadn't remembered the utterly foolish name Harry had given his car. "Plus," Harry continued, "I'll be honest. This is my first time in a Mercedes, I'm a little excited," 

"I hope its everything you expected," said Louis 

"Its better," said Harry, and Louis wanted to ask, but Harry knew he wouldn't, so he answered anyway, "because you're here," 

Everything inside of Louis wanted to brush off Harry's comment because that was just what Louis did. But he let himself have it. He stayed quiet and let Harry's words ring in the air around him. It was quiet for awhile and Louis didn't mind. He was still a bit too shaken up to properly function. He still hadn't moved his vehicle, but he really needed processing time. He needed to adjust to whatever it was Harry made him feel. He hadn't quite sorted that out, and he really wasn't sure that he would. 

"Listen, Louis," Harry started, changing the light atmosphere of the car instantly, "about Niall," 

"Its okay," said Louis before Harry could finish.  

Harry leaned across the car, trying to catch Louis' eye, but he was focused on the steering wheel. He couldn't talk like this _and_ look at Harry. It was just something he couldn't do.  

"No," said Harry, and his tone was far more stern than Louis was used to, so he braved a glance up. Harry's eyes were heavy and apologetic and Louis felt a strangeness fluttering in his chest, "it's really not okay. He means well, but he's wrong," 

"I appreciate you saying that," wow, Louis hadn't even decided yet that he wanted to talk, but somehow he was hearing his voice. Fancy that, "but," 

"But nothing. He's wrong and I'm sorry that he keeps doing that. He's not a bad guy, I swear. I just..." It was the first moment that Louis had ever seen Harry anything but confident and sure of himself, "He wants to protect me. It has nothing to do with you. I went through a lot of shit when we were in school and he thinks he can protect me from the world," 

"It's okay," said Louis again. He was a broken record. He would have been willing to overlook almost anything for Harry, though. 

Harry let out a long sigh, "but it isn't right. I think you're a good person, Louis, and I'm sorry that Niall didn't see that right away, but he'll come around," 

Louis wanted to chuckle darkly and say something about how no one else in recorded history had ever "come around" for the sake of him, but he also wanted to keep all forms of darkness away from Harry.  

"Harry?" Louis felt like he was completely transparent. He felt like Harry could see every bit and piece in side of him that he'd tried to protect from the world, but he blazed on because he'd already come this far. He knew loss. He knew what it would be like to lose whatever he and Harry had, but he also knew he could handle it. That it was worth it. He knew how to have things taken from him, and he'd gladly go through it again because this felt important.  

"Yeah?" 

"I..." He hesitated, "I don't get it. Haven't you heard... about me? Don't you know why Niall doesn't like me?" 

"Yes, but I've only heard, I haven't _seen_ any of it, so it just seems like a load of shit if I'm honest," 

Louis wasn't on the same planet anymore. Maybe he _had_ died that night he'd taken the pills, because literally nothing in the world was the same.  

"Its not just Niall though," argued Louis, like he was going to talk Harry _into_ hating him, "I heard what our prof said," 

Harry gave him a look like he'd been punched in the stomach, "I'm sorry," but none of this was his fault! It was Louis, Louis, Louis. Always Louis. From the moment he'd been born he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Did you hear what I said, though?" 

Louis shook his head. 

"I said I can make my own judgement of character," 

"And what's your consensus?"  

Louis wasn't really sure he wanted to know the answer to that, but he'd asked anyway.  

"I already told you. I think you're brave. I wish I was more like you. I wish I was brave enough to stand up and walk right through the fire no matter what everyone else thinks," 

 _Brave?_ Louis was a coward. Harry had no idea. The only reason he walked through the halls of that school anymore was because he was _afraid._ He was afraid to let Harry down. It wasn't bravery.  

"And, I know a thing or two about living in the shadow of what everyone else thinks," 

Louis was going to ask, but Harry continued.  

"I grew up in a small town, like, really small. Everyone knew me and I'll tell you, being the only, like, _out_ guy in town? That's a lot. No one but Niall wanted to be my friend," 

Oh. _Oh._  

Harry had just come out to him.  

"I'm, uh, I'm sorry if that made things weird," said Harry quickly, "I just thought, like, if you wanted to be friends and all, that you should know," 

Louis wanted to cry or something. His eyes were burning. This was a conversation that was so deep and so close to Harry and he was _trusting_ Louis with this knowledge, even though he had no idea how close this whole thing was to _Louis_. He'd never in his life had a moment like this. He'd never honestly been able to connect with someone on this level. Harry was right there, right in front of him, exposing all the skeletons in his closet and Louis was overwhelmed with the idea. He couldn't understand why Harry wanted to trust him with this.  

But, fuck it, because he wanted to trust Harry, too. 

"Me too," was all he said, and the tears were really stinging his eyes now. He stared up at the ceiling to keep them from falling. He was having a major emotional break-through/crisis, but when he checked his peripherals, he saw Harry grinning wider than he had all night.  

"I figured..." 

Harry seemed... _happy,_ which honestly didn't make a lot of sense. It was just a thing, just a small thing he and Harry shared, but it seemed like it meant so much more to Harry than it ever had to Louis. For Louis, it was so small, so irrelevant because he was certain that whether he fancied boys or girls, the world wouldn't change. There wouldn't suddenly be something different or desirable about him.  

But, here they were, finally, after that moment when Louis had saw the Merchant of Venice on Harry's desk, he'd found a second thing they could share. And while it was small and irrelevant to Louis, it wasn't to Harry and that was something. Harry had suffered at the hands of this fact about himself, and suffering Louis knew. He couldn't imagine that there were people out there who weren't immediately sucked into the kindness that surrounded Harry. He couldn't imagine that a single person ever had gone out of their way to try and take away his easy and calm smile, but it had happened and it was criminal.  

Harry deserved better. He deserved for everyone to see him like Louis did. It made Louis feel a sick sort of heat in his stomach at the idea that anyone wanted to overlook the brilliant boy sat next to him. 

The car had been silent for a long time. Louis didn't know where to go from here. There were millions of little things inside of him that he'd never ever said to another person, and they all felt like they were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't want to say them. He didn't want to think about them, because that was a lot of lay on Harry. It was too much to expect that Harry could handle them. It was too selfish to have the expectation that he'd want to.  

Louis had probably been lost in his own thoughts for too long, because Harry's grin was gone and he was staring at him like there wasn't enough air in the vehicle for both of them. Louis always managed to do this, and they hadn't really even known each other for any extent of time. Louis brought the world around him into his sinkhole. He hated himself more than usual, though, for managing to bring Harry into it.  

"Harry?" 

And wow. Louis spoke more the Harry than he really even did to Terri. He didn't even have to try.  

"Yeah?" Harry's voice was soft and sad sounding.  

"I'm sorry that that happened to you. It's just a thing, you know? You didn't deserve to have people judge you because of it," 

Harry made a non-committal sound, and Louis thought that maybe it sounded happy, but it could have just as easily been frustration at being stuck in the sinkhole of Louis Tomlinson. But, Louis could hope, since he'd already thrown caution to the wind a week ago.  

"Thank you," Harry's voice was soft, "same for you, though," 

Louis wasn't entirely sure what Harry meant. Louis hadn't struggled with the same things as Harry, for Louis, it had quite honestly just been a 'thing'. After all that he'd been through since waking up in the hospital those few weeks ago, this was probably the hardest. Navigating his way around Harry's unexpected kindness was daunting. They'd already come so far, gone so deep. It was dangerous for both of them, because Louis didn't trust himself not to let Harry down.  

"Just because your family is well off, or whatever, that doesn't mean people should just assume you're okay," 

Harry was just full of understatements. Louis' family wasn't 'well-off'--they were obnoxiously rich. Louis also seriously doubted that a single person had ever assumed that he was 'okay'. 

"Why are you being so nice to me?" 

They were words he'd spun over and over in his head since the first conversation they'd had. It had gone further now than standard politeness. Harry had gone above and beyond anything Louis had ever come to expect of a fellow human being. It was exhausting for him, turning the words over and over in his head.  

Louis' eyes still remained on the steering wheel, favouring that over whatever look Harry was sure to have on his face.  

"I don't know what you mean by that," his voice sounded hurt.  

"I'm," god, Louis was in way over his head, but he just kept going. He just kept talking, "I'm, like, kind of fucked up, you know? I _know_ you know, and Niall isn't wrong and I just don't get why you wanted me to hang out with you," 

"Lou," Harry's voice was soft, "everyone's a bit fucked up. I wanted to hang out with you because I just think we get on well. I just like spending time with you, so I wanted to spend more time with you. There's nothing more to it, honestly," 

Louis nodded once, but he wasn't convinced. Normally, whatever someone's end-game was, had always been pretty obvious to him. With Matt, he knew their whole thing had originated over Louis' Visa card. He'd needed someone to support his habit financially. With other people in the past, it had mostly been the same. In primary school, he'd had classmates that wanted so sit next to him so they could copy his work. When Matt was angry, he needed Louis' body as an outlet. They were all obvious and Louis had never really had to question why people were around him, but Harry wasn't obvious. He didn't know his end game. 

The most confusing thing of all, though, was that Harry didn't seem like the manipulative sort. He didn't seem like he was going to flip the switch and change his expectation of Louis, but what if he did? It would probably hurt even more because Louis wouldn't see it coming.  

And then, in the same breath he felt an intense guilt at even harbouring the idea that there was something sinister inside of the sweet boy in his passenger's seat.  

Harry's gaze was focused out of the windshield now, "and, if you wanted to talk about things, I'd listen," 

"Like what kind of things?" 

"Like, I don't know, how shitty it probably feels to have people talk about you like you aren't even there," 

Louis shrugged, "I'm used to that," 

Harry's bottom lip actually fell into a full pout before he spoke again, "you shouldn't be," his voice was careful and soft as he navigated around Louis' long un-touched emotions, "and I'm sorry that my friend is one of those people. I can't honestly tell you how bad that makes me feel," 

Louis exhaled a long breath. The atmosphere in his car was getting too heavy. He needed a break. He hadn't expected it. He couldn't really figure out how they'd gotten here. People didn't care about this stuff, his head was spinning because Harry just kept going. He just kept acknowledging Louis' emotions and it was a lot. Louis didn't even acknowledge them. 

Finally, he put his foot on the brake and pressed the start button. He needed air. He needed a break. He rolled down his window and took a deep breath. He laid his hand on the gearshift and risked a glance over at Harry, who looked gutted that Louis had ended the conversation. He wished he could stop doing that. He wished he didn't have to bring all of his emotional baggage with him. He wished that there was some kind of reality that could have existed where he and Harry could just be normal for a minute.  

"Which way is your flat?" 

Harry pointed out his window but didn't say a word, so Louis just drove, taking whatever turn Harry silently motioned to him. It was all wrong, and Louis really wished he was better at this. Harry was there, standing out in the open, offering some kind of kinship to Louis that he'd been denied his entire life, but the real kicker was, while Louis wanted to accept it more than he'd ever wanted anything, he didn't know how. He was lost. He'd been ignored and neglected for so long that he was crumbling under the heat from Harry's stare. He couldn't expect that he would get many more chances, so he forced himself to try.  

They'd pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building that Louis was assuming Harry's flat was in. He put the car in park when he pulled up to the front doors.  

"Thank you," the words were out of his mouth before Harry even had a chance to reach for his seatbelt.  

"For what?" Harry's voice was light, like he hadn't really expected he'd need to use it again after Louis had effectively cut off the entire night's conversation.  

"For... trying," 

Louis really had a great strength in making Harry look utterly miserable. His once sparkling eyes just sparkled with pity or sadness or maybe regret. Louis couldn't be too sure, but he knew it was him that had made the change in Harry. Was it really any wonder that Niall wanted to keep him away? 

"Is it working?" 

There was a lump in Louis' throat. It had been the longest day of his life, and the tension in his car just made him want to give up. He was so thoroughly done with everything. He could feel the tears prickling behind his closed eyelids, and it was just a fact that the second Harry walked out of that car, that he was going to break. He needed to break. He needed _a break._ A break from the expectations and the tension and the regret and exhaustion and overall pain of the longest Friday anyone had ever lived through.  

"I don't know," he admitted softly, and he and Harry were both being pretty cryptic, but it seemed like they were on the same page and that was strange, "do you want it to be?" 

"More than anything," 

Harry wasn't afraid of emotions. He wasn't afraid of whatever it was that he was thinking, but most remarkably, he wasn't afraid of whatever shit-storm of emotions were probably inside of Louis.  

"I appreciate that," 

He wasn't sure if he did, though.  

"And Louis, just so we're clear, I'm not really _trying_. It's called chemistry, yeah? Some people just feel right without having to try," 

Louis gripped the steering wheel like he was hanging on for dear life. And maybe he was, because a really large part of him felt like driving directly into the face of a mountain because whatever was happening inside of his chest, his stomach? It was crushing him and he just wanted to break. He wanted it to be okay for him to break.  

Harry made no move to get out of the car. Parts of Louis appreciated it, because it was almost a little bit easier to breathe when he felt Harry next to him, but parts of him really wanted him to go, because Louis really only knew how to function in his absence. He only really knew how to be on his own. He didn't know how to share this level of... _closeness_ with someone else. Not with Lottie, not with Terri, and especially not with Harry. He had no clue how to live in the new world that had been thrust upon him after swallowing that bottle of pills.  

He thought back to what Terri had said, about him just constantly repeating the story about himself that he'd been told his entire life. About how he had to step back and make his own narrative and stop letting everyone else's expectations dictate who he thought he was. But how did Harry see him? Probably not the same way everyone else did, but probably not the way Louis would have liked. Louis figured he mostly saw a sad boy that he wanted to fix. It wasn't that he really liked what he saw—he wanted to improve it. Maybe it was noble, but Louis didn't want that, either.  

"Um," Harry's voice had gained a note of confidence, "can I ask you one more thing?" 

Gripping the steering wheel, trying not to open his eyes, lest those stubborn tears actually slip out, Louis nodded. He didn't know what was possessing him to keep things going on any longer. Surely it was okay for him to admit that he was done. That the world had taken its toll on him. But he didn't. He didn't because he didn't want to deny Harry anything he wanted.  

"Is Matt..."  

Harry's voice shook when he said the name, like he _knew._ Like he knew that Matt was a huge part of the reason he was so broken by this point in the day. Harry cleared his throat, trying to find his strength, despite the fact that the pinnacle of weakness was directly beside him. He felt Harry's hand run softly across his knuckles, and it was only with the gesture that he noticed the grip he had on the wheel was turning his knuckles white. He didn't like it when Harry mentioned Matt's name. He didn't feel like it had any place between them. 

" _Is_ _Matt_ _your_ _boyfriend_?" The words came out all conjoined and messy like Harry knew he was asking the worst possible question, but he just _had_ to ask it anyway.  

And, for the millionth time that night, Louis was crushed with feelings of inadequacy. Both answers were wrong. Both options made him look pathetic. If he lied and said, _yes,_ then Harry would see how sad he really was. How little fight he had inside of him. He'd see his cowardice, and he'd know that Louis would accept any behaviour just as long as _something_ was directed at him. That was pathetic, and Louis knew it. But wasn't it equally as pathetic to admit that, no, Matt had never even given him the courtesy of that sort of promise, yet Louis felt inclined to accept whatever abuse he threw his way. It was all wrong. All of it. He didn't want to talk about it at all, even less than he wanted to talk about it with Terri. 

Harry hadn't lifted his hand off of Louis' and Louis felt like he was going to throw up. Softly, though, Harry started to rub the back of his hand with his thumb. Soft, slow circles and it did something to Louis. It made him feel okay to break. It was just like the hug he and Terri had earlier that day. It opened the gates inside of him and all the emotions came rushing to the surface.  

But Louis didn't want to break. He didn't want Harry to see his weakness, even though he knew it was futile. He needed to go. He needed to leave so he could fall apart properly.  

He sucked in a deep breath and dropped his hands from the steering wheel, forcing Harry's hand from his. Harry recoiled quickly, certain that he'd crossed a line and it had only really been a couple of hours since he'd shown up to Starbucks and Louis had chipped away more pieces of Harry than he could count and he just felt like garbage. That was the only way to sum it up. He was shit. He was shit at being a friend, and shit at being alive and shit at holding it together.  

"No," his throat was thick and it was hard for him to say the word.  

"I'm sorry," why was Harry still there? Why was he still apologizing? "I'm not trying to push," he touched the back of Louis' hand again briefly, where it was now laying on his lap. "I'd be a liar though if I didn't tell you I'm glad," 

Harry undid his seatbelt then, his hand hovering over the door handle, but his eyes still secured to Louis'. "I'm gonna go up now," Louis nodded, but Harry, of course had more words, "can you just, like, text me? When you're home?" 

Louis nodded, but he couldn't speak. He was too close to tears. He'd felt too much. Harry had _made_ him feel too much. 

"Thank you, Louis," said Harry, opening the door and letting a fresh gust of wind clear out the thick, heavy emotions that were suffocating Louis, "for driving me home and for hanging out. It was perfect," he got out, but ducked his head in one last time before he closed the door, "get some sleep. Come see me tomorrow," 

Louis didn't bother to respond. He heard the door close and he opened his eyes, finally feeling the tears that had been building for probably hours fall down his cheeks. He hadn't even bothered to watch and see if Harry had left. Hell, he'd probably let Harry see him fall to pieces. Harry was probably in the process of regretting his last words. He would have been so much better off just letting whatever had happened between them fizzle. He didn't need someone like Louis in his life. 

Quickly, Louis wiped his eyes and threw the car into gear as quickly as he could and peeled way too fast out of the car park. 

 

Louis permitted himself ten full minutes of ugly crying in his car, and then five minutes of recovery time before he even dared to walk through the front door of his house. He was ready to make a bee-line for his bed, the only place that made even the smallest amount of sense to him. He had a lot to sort through, but he wasn't prepared to think about any of that yet. First he needed sleep. He'd earned it. After everything he'd gone through. After not sleeping at all the previous night and being reminded over and over just how small and insignificant he was. From waking up naked and ashamed and dressing in the previous day's clothes and facing Harry. From letting Harry see too deep into him with the bruise incident. From wailing in Terri's arms to promising he'd spend time with Harry, even though he barely had a clue what that would entail. From facing Lottie's tiny heart which he'd broken in his absence to having her meet Harry. From having to face yet another icy stare from Niall to expressing his feelings with Harry? It was more than enough. He was more than done with the day. He'd earned a break.  

He'd barely laid his foot on the first step of the staircase before he heard his mother's voice. 

"Louis William," 

He couldn't catch a break. After everything he had been through, he was about to have accusations thrown at him. He knew how this went. She only acknowledged him when he'd done something wrong, and most times, like now, he didn't have a clue what that might be.  

He turned, standing on that first stair and looking down at his mother. She hadn't said a word to him in... longer than he could remember. The last thing she'd probably said was when she'd toldhim she'd suspend his credit card if he went back to London. How long ago had that been? It felt like a life time.  

"Where in the fuck did you take my daughter?" 

She was much harsher than usual. Normally she favoured ignoring him. She wasn't typically so confrontational, so Louis must have really fucked up this time.  

"What?" His voice was small, still half broken from his self-indulgent cry in the car. 

"You took Charlotte," her face held an expression of utter disgust.  

"I—" 

"You _cannot_ drag her into this, Louis, what the fuck were you thinking? _You_ _can't take her,_ " 

"Mum!" Louis heard Lottie's shrill cry from the top of the stairs.  

"Stay out of this, Charlotte," hissed their mother, turning her attention back to Louis, "you took her, Louis, you do not have permission to do that," 

"To _what?_ " Bellowed Lottie's voice, louder and she marched angrily down the staircase, "take me to Starbucks? Get a _grip,"_ she was standing next to him now and anger was rolling off of her in waves.  

"Go to you room!" Their mother yelled at Lottie, "we've finished this conversation already, Charlotte," Lottie made no move to listen to her demands, but their mum shifted her attention back to Louis, "she's a _child,_ Louis. You can't take her to those places. I won't allow it. You will not break her," 

Well, so much for the quiet of his bedroom. Instead, he was having accusations thrown at him and he wanted to stand up for himself (which was something new) but in the same breath he knew where she was coming from. Usually the places he went, the people he saw were unsavoury to say the least. She was really only looking out for Lottie's best interest. Who was he to judge that? She'd already seen the worst in one of her children, of course she was horrified that Lottie would follow suit. Of course she thought Louis was the worst possible influence.  

He checked out of the conversation then. Louis wasn't really a volatile person by nature. He rarely participated in screaming matches. He just shut himself down, took it all in and walked away. This time wasn't about to be any different. He wasn't going to engage her, or lie to her and tell her she was wrong. He let his mother and Lottie scream at each other until they both gave up. He honestly didn't hear a thing. He'd gone somewhere else. He had a really good ability to disappear inside of his head. It was a technique he'd perfected through years of being hate fucked by Matt and hated by his family.  

Before he knew it, his mother threw her hands in the air and stomped off toward the living room where Dan was. He still couldn't hear anything. He was trapped in some weird trance, hovering on the first stair, watching the spot where his mum had been standing a moment ago. He felt Lottie's hand grasp onto his then. She broke his trance and he looked down to her hand, gripping onto his tightly. She met his eyes.  

"You didn't deserve that," her voice was soft, and she tugged on his hand, urging him to follow her up the stairs.  

He let himself be lead up the giant staircase and followed quietly behind her as she made her way to his bedroom. She opened the door and pulled him inside, making to lock it after them. He caught her hand before she could lock it.  

"I think I need to be alone," his voice was broken and robotic and Lottie looked like she meant to fight him on it.  

But, she analysed him for just a moment before she nodded once. She could tell he needed space. Quickly she grabbed onto him and squeezed him as tightly as her tiny body could. He could feel the weight of her sadness and he knew that, too, was his fault. Everything was always his fault, and he needed a minute to sort that out, or a week to sleep it off. He wasn't sure which.  

"Breakfast tomorrow. Promise?" She asked quietly.  

"Promise," he said as she let him go. She hesitated for only a moment before she pulled the door open again.  

"Goodnight, Louis," 

She shut the door and Louis waited for the wave emotions to pull him under again, but it didn't happen. He just felt exhausted. He pulled off his jumper and his jeans and crawled into his bed in just his underwear. He was more ready for sleep in that moment than he'd been in his entire life. He shoved his face deep into the pillow and wrapped the blankets into a tight cocoon around him, like he could maybe seal in all the emotions before they spewed everywhere. It was a pretty thought, but it was broken pretty quickly. He heard his phone chime, and he was still too awake to ignore it. **_Curly._** He sighed and unlocked it. He hadn't noticed the first three that came before the most recent one.  

 ** _Curly: Hey. Sorry to keep bothering you. I just wanted to thank you, because I think that you don't believe me, but I really did have a nice time with you tonight. Lottie was hilarious._**  

 ** _Curly: And you..._**  

 ** _Curly: You're really lovely, Lou. I'm glad you stopped by. I hope I didn't scare you off._**  

Louis heart was beating in his throat as he read the texts. The last one, though. That was the one that really hit him.  

**_Curly: Look, I know you haven't maybe had the best experiences with friends in the past... but I don't want you to think that it's always like that. I don't care about your family or whatever else it is everyone is always on about. Yeah, it was nice to ride in a Mercedes, but like, if you drove a Ford I'd still have taken the ride home. And I know that it probably wasn't easy for you and that I'm probably too nosey and I asked too many questions, but I just feel like there's so much I want to know. I feel like there's a lot going on that you're hiding and I thought, maybe, you'd want someone around that you don't have to hide from. Have a good night, Lou. -H xx_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week was the first week since the hiatus started that I actually lost a little faith that the boys would come back together. I feel like we're into the post 1D world now. (mostly because of that dumb line in Liam's song). 
> 
> *cries*
> 
> Thank god I'm writing angst, because boy am I feeling angst.


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My biggest inspiration during this chapter was "Lay it all on Me" by Rudimental and my beloved Ed Sheeran.

Normally, sleep was one of those things that Louis wasn't very good at. He'd always been the sort of person who woke a million times through the night, and that's why he'd kept books stuffed under his pillows as long as he could remember. He could never just fall back to sleep after nightmares, so he'd always pull out a book and read until his eyes burned and he had no choice but to fall back to sleep. 

But, after the level of mental exhaustion that he'd felt from the previous day, Louis was not surprised when he finally rolled over and looked at his phone and it told him it was half nine. He was really only awake because he'd heard a knock on his door.  

"Louis? Are you up?" It was Lottie, thankfully. She was probably the only person in the world he would have opened the door for in that moment.  

Even after sleeping three times his typical amount, Louis felt like he could have slept for hours longer. But he dragged himself out of bed, pulled on some clothes and opened his door. Lottie smiled at him, holding a tray with two platefuls on pancakes.  

"You promised you'd have breakfast with me, so I made pancakes," 

 

They sat next to each other on Louis' sofa and ate quietly. Neither of them really had much to say after the fit their mother had thrown last night. He didn't mind so much. There was a kinship in their silence. They lived under the same roof, and while their upbringings had differed drastically, they still understood each other on a level that anyone out side of the front door could not.  

"What are you going to do today?" Lottie asked while she stacked their dishes together on the tray.  

Louis looked longingly at his bed, "Nothing that I know of," 

"You're not seeing Harry?" Her voice sounded innocent enough, but her smile said something different.  

They watched each other closely, but Louis didn't answer the question. Harry probably felt suffocated by the emotions that Louis had dumped all over him the previous night. There probably was going to be very little Harry in his life, aside from Biology Lab. He couldn't see Harry asking for his presence willingly. Louis felt ashamed and embarrassed and looking back on things just made it worse and worse. It had been so easy to accept Harry's kindness as a fact that he'd forgotten to guard himself against the aftermath. He'd gotten so foolishly lost in the whole thing that it was just another thing on his long list of social faux-pas and regrets.  

"I liked him," said Lottie, "he seems nice," 

Well, yeah. Harry _was_ nice. Of course she liked him. He imagined everyone that met Harry liked him. It wasn't hard to see that. She wasn't going to stop at that though.  

"Not like Matt," 

"You don't even know Matt," 

"Thank Christ for that," she snapped back, "I don't need to know him to know Harry's a better choice. I bet Harry won't beat you up and get you arrested," 

Okay, _wow._ Where did Lottie get this information? Who was telling her these things. She was just a kid. How could she possibly understand the complexity of the situation? She didn't. It was as simple as that. She was a child and she might have heard things from who knew who, but she didn't know the deeper parts.  

"Its not that simple, Lots," 

"Because you insist on making it difficult. You don't _need_ Matt, so I don't get why you keep doing it," 

He sighed, "I don't really want to talk about this right now," 

" _Right now?_ " Lottie was better at rage than any other human being he'd ever met, "you've _never_ talked about it. Not to me anyway. Mum's too fucked up to get it. No one gets it, Louis, because you don't say anything. You're just a fucking martyr. Do something for yourself, Louis, just call Harry. He's good. You need good. You deserve good," 

Louis needed to shut this down before it got too much further out of hand. Lottie didn't have a clue what she was talking about. What did she honestly think was happening with Harry? She was giving him way too much credit here.  

"Please stop," his voice was tired 

"I just wish you'd open your eyes, Louis," 

And he wished the same of her. He wished she was older, that maybe she knew more about the world so she could understand the deeper workings of life. People didn't just get the things they wanted. They got the things they deserved. Louis had messed up time and time again, he'd already done it with Harry. He'd already blown all the chances he had at being Harry's friend. Lottie didn't get it though, she didn't see the world for what it was. Maybe he didn't want that for her, though. He wasn't sure if it was better for her to understand or to go on living in the pretty world she saw. He didn't want her to know darkness the way he had, but he did wish she _understood_ that he knew it.  

 

The minute Lottie had left his room, Louis crawled back into his bed. It was Saturday. That meant he had to make it through today and tomorrow before his life went back to normal and he had his routine to distract him. It was going to be a long couple of days, that was for sure. But he could probably sleep a good chunk of them off. There were hundreds of things on his mind, but he was still too emotionally exhausted to be able to address them. So he pulled the covers over himself and laid face first in his pillow.  

He heard his phone chime before he even got comfortable. It was a strange thing for him, because he was still so used to the radio silence of his past. He'd spend more time texting in the past couple of weeks than he ever really had in the past. He picked up the phone and when he glanced down at it, he saw that he'd already gotten three texts from Harry that morning, but the most recent one was from Lottie. He felt a lot less panicked by Lottie's text, so he opened that one first.  

 ** _Lottie: Text him_**  

Well. That was straight to the point. He could imagine her in the room next to his, sitting on her bed and obsessing over his life. It made him chuckle a bit, because, really, after all the shit he'd put his family through, he was pretty lucky to have Lottie on board in any way.  

Opening Harry's texts wasn't as easy. But he did it.  

 ** _Curly: At the risk of really over-doing things (since you didn't answer any of my texts last night) I just wanted to say like 500 more things... Like for starters, I'm sorry if I scared you. Believe me when I say that I really, really did not want that to be the end result here. I know that you know I saw your arm in class yesterday, and, yeah that freaked me out. Maybe I was way out of line asking you anything, but I just don't want to see you suffer because no one ever told you that you have another option._**  

 ** _Curly: Also, I'm telling you. You have another option. I genuinely want to be your friend, Louis. There's nothing more to it, I promise. I just think we're good. You made me laugh, and I've been so stressed out and scared with the move and everything, but you made me not think about any of that. I'm not trying to push you or back you into corners. You don't have to talk to me about those things, but I just want you to know you can._**  

 ** _Curly: Also, last thing, I swear. But I'm off today and it might be one of the last warm days before winter, and I'd like to like, go for a walk or something. Maybe you'd want to spend the day with me? Like, I get if you don't... but I'd really like it if you did._**  

Harry was seriously resilient... or insane. Louis didn't know which. Maybe he didn't need to know right away. Maybe wasting away a day with Harry would end better than wasting away trying to sleep and not think about the shit storm he was attempting to live through.  

So he didn't let himself over-think it.  

 ** _Louis: What time should I pick you up?_**  

 

Louis didn't bother being surprised by how easily he remembered how to get to Harry's apartment building. He also didn't allow himself to have any expectations. He honestly didn't know how he'd managed to find the strength enough to face Harry again, especially after he'd definitely broken down before he was out of Harry's eyesight. Harry knew too much. Louis wasn't really sure how to feel about that. He wasn't sure if it was something that was going to haunt him and break him further, or if it was something that would just continue to grow. All he really knew for sure was that Harry seemed genuine in his actions, and he'd shared his own pain with Louis and he appreciated that. Sometimes he got too lost in his own head and he forgot that he wasn't the only one who suffered. Maybe it was a bit fucked up that he wanted to find kinship in suffering, but it was what he knew.  

When he pulled up, Harry was already waiting out front. His smile lit up when he saw Louis' car and, even though he was trying exceptionally hard not to analyse it, Louis wasn't sure why Harry seemed to happy to see him. As soon as he stopped the car, the passenger side door swung open and Harry's smile beamed in at him in full capacity.  

"It's so nice to see Marsha again!" He announced, closing the door behind him, "it's good that you could be here, too," 

Thank _god._ Whatever weird thing had been happening between them last night seemed to have passed. Harry was light and happy and joking again. Louis smiled back at him and undid his seatbelt.  

"You drive," he jumped out of his seat before he had a chance to hear Harry's response. 

Louis rounded the car and opened the still occupied passenger's side. Harry stared up at him, completely flabbergasted.  

"Well, go on, then," urged Louis, "places to go, things to do and all that," 

Harry got out of his seat and brushed passed Louis in his excitement to get to the driver's seat. Louis sat down and pulled the seatbelt across him. Harry got into the driver's seat and grinned across at Louis.  

"Are you sure?" He spoke as he shifted his seat back and adjusted the rearview mirror.  

Louis nodded once, an easy smile on his face.  

"But... like this is a Mercedes Benz. Aren't you afraid I might crash it?" 

Louis raised an eyebrow at Harry, "it's just a car, Harry," 

Harry huffed a laugh and bit down on his bottom lip.  

"What?" 

"I guess," laughed Harry, "that, that's the first time you've actually sounded... spoiled," 

Once the words were out of his mouth, Harry looked like he regretted them. But he hadn't meant them to be hurtful, and Louis felt that. Harry just wanted to playfully tease. Louis didn't mind that. So he laughed back.  

"Full disclosure," he said, not really believing how easily they'd fallen into this place, "I _am_ kind of spoiled when it comes to things. This is my third Mercedes," 

He wasn't bragging. He was just playing. He was drawing the lines about what Harry was allowed to tease him about. It felt okay.  

"You've had three cars," Harry shook his head back and forth in disbelief.  

"No, I've had three _Mercedes,"_ Louis was actually still laughing. It was a bloody miracle. Harry was still laughing, too, and Louis had done that. Instead of breaking him apart and filling him with darkness, he'd made him laugh. It would probably only serve his addictive personality. He could easily have become ensnared with the idea of Harry's constant laughter. "my first car was a BMW," 

Harry smacked himself in the forehead and he and Louis laughed harder then.  

"I won't lie," said Harry, "I'd be a bit upset if you got rid of Marsha," 

He looked around him, his hands sliding across the leather seats and his eyes scanning the dashboard. It was only the second time he'd sat in here with Harry but something felt important about where he was. It didn't just feel like the second time he'd sat here wth Harry. It felt like more, everything involving Harry seemed to feel like more. And as he thought back to the moment when he'd been on one of his darkest places and Harry had texted him a foolish nickname for his car and made him smile when it felt the most impossible. Or the time he'd spoken about his own car, Carla, and Louis had felt a burning jealously over the fact that he'd never been so connected to something.  

And then, he felt it all at once. His car, this thing he and Harry had shared. It mattered. It mattered to him more than a _thing_ had ever mattered to him in his entire life. It wasn't just a car now. She was Marsha and Harry loved her and Louis never wanted to let that go.  

"I'd be upset too,"  

Harry smiled at him from the drivers seat. He slid his palm across the steering wheel contemplatively, watching Louis  closely. So quickly, it was over almost as fast as it began, Harry reached out and squeezed Louis hand. Something brief and warm rushed into Louis' tummy.  

"I think she's a keeper," said Harry.  

Louis nodded once and Harry shifted the car into drive. The car was silent because Louis just kept on feeling things he didn't really understand.  

"You don't ever have the radio on?" Harry asked softly, clearly once again sensing the need for a subject change.  

Louis shook his head, "you can turn it on, though,"  

"What do you like to listen to?" 

Yet another question that Louis had no idea how to answer. He didn't listen to music because he didn't understand it. It seemed so basic and normal, and everyone had a favourite band or genre or something, didn't they? But Louis had never known what to do with the emotions that were expressed in the songs he heard. He'd never really learned how to feel anything, much less a seemingly endless amount of variations.  

"I don't know," he admitted and he felt stupid for the millionth time that day and it was barely noon.  

Harry chanced a glance over at him and his eyes held that sadness Louis was becoming so familiar with. He wanted to kick himself every time he put it there.  

Harry's recovery was quick though and he reached out to turn on the radio. The music filled the spaces in the car that Louis had no idea to fill and it was nice. Harry was exactly the same sort of driver as he was a person. He was soft and confident and eased into the brakes cautiously, his eyes constantly flicking to the mirrors around him. It was comfortable, in an instinctual sort of way. Louis could have easily drifted off with the calming stop and go of the car. But Harry kept him awake with quiet conversation.  

"So, is Lottie the oldest of your sisters?" 

Louis nodded, "she is," 

"That's a big age gap, you're, what, 20?"  

"We have different fathers," 

"Ah, a fellow child of divorce," 

"Not so much divorce as the bastard child of a well-off daughter who brought great shame to her family," Louis used a mocking tone, trying not to alarm Harry with the truth that hid between his words. 

"Modern family life just isn't what it used to be," mused Harry and he wasn't asking too much. Louis was okay with where they were going.  

"Gems and I have the same dad but our parents broke up a long time ago. My stepdad was always around more than my real dad. Which was fine, because I definitely got lucky. Robin is the best," 

Louis was happy that Harry had lucked out, even if he hadn't.  

"So what about Lottie's dad, did he stick around?" 

"For awhile, yeah. They had Lottie and three of my other sisters. Mum gave me his last name," was Harry actually still interest in this? Louis hoped he wasn't coming off whiny. He didn't want to make it seem like he was bad-mouthing his family. He didn't want to go there, "mum kicked him out three years ago or so. Found herself a younger man, had two more babies," 

"Yikes," said Harry in the understatement of the century, "must be a hell of a Christmas dinner," 

"Ha," managed louis, easily taking the prize for the understatement back from Harry. He wasn't about to say that he'd never actually been around for a Christmas dinner since Dan had been in the picture. Louis was trying really hard  _not_ to be pathetic.  

"That's okay," smiled Harry, "my Christmas dinners would be weird to anyone else, too. My dad comes over and drinks beer with Robin and he and my mum laugh like they're best friends instead of exes and I think that takes the cake for weird,"  

Louis shook his head, "nah, that sounds nice. It's good they get along. Poor Lottie hasn't even heard from her dad in a couple years. That's not really fair," 

They continued like that while Harry drove them to wherever he had in mind. Aside from his few hours a week with Terri, Louis couldn't even remember the last time he'd spoken this much. It wasn't just that he was talking around things that hurt him in a big way, it was the fact that it felt natural. It felt like he and Harry had done this millions of times. It was mildly alarming to him because normally Louis over-thought everything he did or said. He didn't do that with Harry though. Whenever Harry's sentence ended, his opened and easily flowed from his lips.  

He was smack dab in the middle of a conversation that Terri had begged him for. Harry now knew more about his family than anyone else he'd ever met. And it was quick. It had all happened in the span of the 10 minutes it took them to get to the park that Harry pulled into.  

The sun was shining and Harry was probably right in assuming that it was going to be one of the last nice days of the year. He turned off the engine and looked over to Louis with a gentile smile on his face.  

"I heard there's nice trails here," he started, "but I wasn't really sure if that's your thing... so if there's something more fun you'd rather do, your call," 

Louis smiled and it wasn't self-depreciating (which might have been an honest miracle), "trust me when I say I don't make the best decisions when it comes to activities. Hiking sounds nice," 

Harry grinned wider, "good, I need someone to hike with. I love Niall, but he's Irish at heart. All he wants to do is eat and drink beer. He never takes me outside," 

Louis laughed, "then look no further," 

   
 

The walk was mostly quiet, Harry just offering up the occasional joke or fond memory of the days he'd hiked with his sister and Robin. Louis didn't talk much. He mostly favoured encouraging Harry's stories. It was a lot easier that way. He couldn't bring his emotional baggage crashing in that way. As they came to the top of the trail, there was a small break in the bushes surrounding them. Louis recognized the opening, and remembered where it led.   
 

"Harry?" 

Harry stopped and glanced back at Louis, "hmm?" 

Louis pointed to a barely used trail to the left, "there's a really nice lookout down this path," 

Harry gave him a look of surprise, "you've been here?" 

Louis shrugged, "my Gran used to take me when I was younger. Sometimes I come here and read," 

Harry's expression softened at the mention of Louis grandmother and he looked like he'd personally been harmed by Louis' pain. Louis would never understand it. Harry cared so much. About every little thing.  

"Show me," he said, gesturing for Louis to lead this time. 

Louis walked carefully across the rocky path and ducked under all the low-hanging branches. He heard Harry's heavier footsteps behind him but he tried not to get caught up in how graceful they sounded behind his clumsiness. When they finally reached the end of the path, it opened up into a clearing that overlooked the entire east end of down. The sun was still blazing down from its place in the sky, and if it weren't for the few flies that wouldn't leave them alone, it might have been an absolute perfect moment. Especially when Harry gasped in surprise and Louis turned around to see the biggest smile take over his face.  

"Wow, Lou," was all he said before walking the rest of the distance to where Louis was standing at the edge of the hill.  

"It's pretty," said Louis, feeling his own smile grow in response to Harry's.  

Harry stood next to Louis and stared out across the town for a moment. He sighed happily and abruptly sat down on the ground, smiling up at Louis, "no, it's perfect," 

Harry looked content, he crossed his legs and bent his knees, leaning back on his hands. He tipped back his head toward the sun and closed his eyes.  

"I always miss the sun so much when it goes away," mused Harry, opening his eyes to meet Louis, "guess I'm not so great at being British," 

Louis smiled down at Harry. He got it. The sun was a luxury of the summer months, and everyone knew not to get used to it. But it was so easy to fall in love with the feeling. Louis was lucky in the fact that his skin always kept the sun's kiss long into the winter months. His tan long outlasted the rainy months and cold months and he'd always loved that fact.  

"Sit with me," said Harry. It wasn't a question, but even if it had been, Louis would have said yes.  

He brought himself slowly to the ground and sat next to Harry, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He was the picture of insecurity all balled up next to Harry was was comfortably stretched up to soak up the sun. Harry took out his phone briefly and checked the time. He looked over at Louis then, who was trying his best to act as naturally as he could.  

"It's not even 1 yet and today's already perfect," said Harry.  

He was right, too. It was the best day Louis could remember having... maybe ever. Days with Matt had been known to start in similar ways, but it was always a matter of time before he flipped the switch. Matt never stayed kind. Harry, on the other hand just seemed to get sweeter and sweeter as the day went on. Louis wasn't really sure how to take the whole thing. He didn't know how to just... be. But it was easier with Harry. Easier than it had ever been in his life.  

Harry knew, though, how to steer Louis back from the edge of his over analysis.  

"You know, my grandmother only ever had me over for tea parties. Bit jealous yours took you on hikes to secret lookouts," 

Louis glanced over at him then, smiling gently, "tea parties are nice, too," 

"You're right," he said, looking back to the city down below them, "but it seems like your grandmother was a pretty special lady. She must have loved you a lot," 

Louis held his breath for a moment, because he was bad at this, "I think so," 

Harry looked over to him, then, shifting his whole body so he was facing Louis. His face was off, sad again, like Louis always made it.  

"It wasn't really a question, yeah?" Said Harry, "she was your grandmother and she did all kinds of great things with you. Of course she loved you," 

Louis inhaled sharply, his chest shaking a bit as he did so. Harry didn't get it. He clearly had no idea that being family was not reason enough to love someone. He was vaguely aware that sometimes that's how families worked, and maybe that was how Harry's worked, but Louis had experienced first hand how little power blood held when it came to loving someone.  

"Okay," it was the best response he had. He agreed to disagree with Harry and he hoped Harry would understand without him having to explain it.   

Harry turned away from him then, and Louis tried to deal with the disappointment that flickered in his stomach. He wasn't sure where that had come from. He really wasn't sure when he'd actually allowed himself to form any sort of expectation with Harry. He wanted very badly to crush that part of himself.  

Louis watched as Harry laid back on the grass and closed his eyes against the sun. He wished he was like Harry. He wished he was just calm and confident and understood at least the notion of inner peace. He'd probably never have that, though, and it burned a bit.  

"I can't believe I've lived in Doncaster for one whole month without knowing about this place," 

Louis stayed quiet because he was afraid to bring Harry down any further. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried not to do it, he just kept bringing everything around him down.  

Harry turned onto his side and looked up Louis, "you're quiet,"  

"'M always quiet," conceited Louis.  

"That's not true,"  

Louis shrugged a bit and tightened his grip around himself.  

"If something is bothering you, you could talk to me about it," 

"A lot of things are bothering me,"  

Louis really hadn't meant to let that slip. His regret was instant.  

Harry propped himself up with one arm, then, and reached out to Louis with his free hand. He held onto Louis wrist firmly enough to show he was serious, "so talk to me about lots of things," 

Louis shook his head, "I wanted today to be nice," 

"Serious can still be nice, Louis," said Harry softly 

Parts of Louis really hated how easy this whole thing was. He hated how easily he'd fallen into this instinctual trust with a complete stranger. It didn't make sense because he should have been protecting himself. It's what he'd done his entire life and he really wasn't sure why he'd so suddenly abandoned that idea. He'd always protected himself first and foremost, because he knew better than to expect that someone was sticking around for real. He knew so much better, and yet words just kept falling from him mouth.  

"I haven't really been honest with you, like, about my family and all," 

Harry didn't take his hand off of Louis' wrist, "what do you mean?" He sounded soft and interested and not at all offended by Louis' words, so Louis blazed on.  

"My family..." He sucked in the air deeply, tightening his grip around himself so that he wouldn't fall apart, "it's not like how it sounds. We're not close—well they are... but I'm not, like, a part of that," 

"Not a part of it, how?" 

"I guess... I've always just kind of done my own thing. I wasn't really a part of the plan, so I just tried to stay out of the way," 

Harry looked at him like Louis had just punched him in the stomach. His brows knit together and his frown was deeper than Louis had ever seen it. He kept searching Louis' eyes and Louis kept darting his gaze around, afraid to get trapped in whatever emotional typhoon was happening in Harry. Harry's grip tightened on Louis' wrist.  

"Not part of the plan?" Harry repeated his words like they were a line from a great Shakespearian tragedy, "who told you that?" 

"I mean..." Louis broke off. He didn't know how to say what he was trying to say. He didn't really even know _what_ he was trying to say, "I just..." 

Harry moved to sit up then, not loosening his grip on Louis' wrist. He moved his body closer to Louis', his hip flush against Louis' hip and it made it really hard for Louis to sort out whatever it was that he was trying to say.  

"I'm sorry," it was the only thing he could think to say. He wasn't even really sure what he was sorry about this time. He was sorry mostly, he reckoned, for burdening Harry with his emotional baggage.  

"Louis, please stop saying you're sorry," 

Harry moved his arm around Louis' back and started rubbing soft circles across his should blades. It was so casual and so normal for Harry, Louis could tell that Harry was the touchy-feely sort of person. It wasn't casual for Louis though, and he felt his whole body tense against it. He didn't want to, but he was trained to shy away from this sort of moment. He was trained to expect that people only touched him out of cruelty. Harry was brave though, and even though he probably felt Louis cringe against it, he didn't give up. He continued to rub Louis' back until he finally relaxed into the gesture.  

"I am sorry, though," he finally said, keeping his arms wrapped firmly around his knees and turning to face away from Harry because this was quickly becoming way more than he was qualified to handle, "I let you believe I had a normal family, but I'm really not normal. Lottie and I have only really been talking for, like, the last three weeks, we aren't even that close," 

"Hey," said Harry, "I've only known you for two weeks, but I want to be close like you and Lottie," 

"I don't know why," said Louis honestly, because how many times had he already gone over and over in his head that exact thing? "I made a lot of mistakes," 

"Everyone makes mistakes. It doesn't mean you're not worth it," 

Louis was quiet then. He didn't know where else to go. He didn't want to give too much, because he really didn't want to scare Harry away. He wanted this moment to last forever, because he'd never in his life felt as close to someone as he did Harry. Harry didn't break their physical contact, either. His palm still traced large circles across Louis' shoulders and he'd mostly worked out the physical tension Louis was feeling. He was no longer gripping his knees for dear life.  

"My mum yelled at me last night," said Louis, finally breaking the silence that he'd let stretch on for too long, "and the worst is that I can't actually blame her," 

"Why did she yell at you?" 

"For taking Lottie out," Louis paused, "it sounds dumb, because you don't know everything, but she was right. She can't really trust me," 

"From what I've seen, you're nothing but a good brother," 

"Yeah, but you don't know everything. She's always kept my siblings away from me, because I'm not _good,_ " 

"Rubbish," 

Louis shook his head, "I don't, like, want to ruin this. You and me," 

"Talking about the bad stuff is what brings people closer, Lou. It's not going to ruin anything," 

Louis burred his face in his arms and slowly let our all the air he had in his lungs, "I had a lot of trouble with drugs, for a long time and I can't really blame anyone for not wanting to be a part of that. I mean, you must have heard," 

"Well, you used the past tense, so I feel like you're on the right track, here. I'm sorry that your mum yelled at you. I can tell you're a good brother to Lottie, and she wants to spend time with you. I'm sure your mum will adjust," 

"I appreciate you saying that," 

"But you don't believe me," 

"Its just that you don't understand," 

"Well, we could change that," 

Louis sighed again, "I don't know why you'd want that," 

Harry smiled at him then, "do you think, if I tell you I want that enough times, that you're going to start to believe me?" 

Louis' smile felt impossible. It had no place there, in a moment like that, when all of his guts were spilled across the ground in front of them and Harry could have easily tossed him aside like every single other person he'd met. It was horrifying and... intoxicating.  

"I'm—" started Louis 

"Don't say you're sorry,"  

There was a smirk on Harry's lips, and Louis really had no other option other than to laugh. Harry's hand was still on his shoulders as he began to laugh along with Louis. Louis had never in his life been so close to the edge with somebody else watching that it was incredible to him that they had come back so easily. They were both laughing now and it was so simple. It was so much more than he had expected when he'd first opened his mouth. He'd said so much and Harry was just laughing. He wasn't running and it was astounding to Louis.  

Harry briefly wrapped his arm around Louis' entire back and squeezed. As seemed to be the norm with Harry, it was over too quickly for Louis to analyse the purpose. Louis felt something squirm inside of him and a calm rushed through his insides. Harry dropped his arm then and laid back on the grass. He wasn't laughing anymore, but he was still grinning as he stared up at Louis. For the first time since he sat down next to Harry, Louis dropped his arms from his knees. He dropped his knees and smiled back at Harry. There was something strange happening in the pit of his stomach. The sun was toasting his skin, and Harry was there, just bathing in that same warmth and smiling up at him like he _wasn't_ the most fucked up person in the world, and it was just a lot to take in. 

Slowly, without full deciding that he wanted to, Louis laid down. He couldn't look at Harry. There was too much buzzing around in his head for him to be able to handle much more. He felt somewhat like he wanted to vomit and somewhat like he'd been in this exact place with this exact person a million times and those things conflicted so harshly that he really didn't know what to do next. He closed his eyes against the sun, trying to let his body relax, but the only thing he could feel was the soft prickle of goosebumps across his skin. It wasn't even cold out. Maybe he was sick. It was probably the only thing that made any bloody sense in his life anymore.  

"I've never told anyone that stuff before," he admitted, because, really, even though he and Terri danced around it twice a week, he'd never been so open and honest about his life at home with anyone. He couldn't imagine ever doing it again, either.  

"Do you feel better?" Asked Harry 

Louis stole a glance over at him, but his eyes were closed again, his lips still holding remnants of his previous smile. Harry's face was meant to smile, it was something Louis had picked up on quickly. He was always on the verge. Always content and ready to smile or laugh and Louis admired that. He probably couldn't hide his emotions from anyone, and that was comforting because Louis needed all the clues he could get to navigate the place they'd created.  

"I don't know," 

"So," Harry started, "When I was 13, I went into Gemma's room while she was away on a class trip and read her entire journal. It went into really graphic detail about her hooking up with one of the boys in her class, and I knew the moment I read it that I'd gone way too far," 

"And," 

"Well, nothing really," said Harry, "I just hadn't ever told anyone that story before, so I wanted to tell you," 

Louis felt his whole face smile and the pure innocence of the gesture. Harry was so good. So good to Louis and while Louis didn't understand any of it, he felt it. He felt safe laying in the grass next to Harry and letting the sun warm his skin and evaporate all of the emotions he had been practically drowning in just moments before. Harry had a really good equilibrium about him. There was a healthy balance of these soft quiet moments before and after the deeper ones that they just kept falling into. He brought Louis back from the edge, and Louis had never in his life been able to successfully do that on his own.  

Harry stayed quiet next to Louis for a long time. Long enough to give Louis a chance to try to analyse things. He'd never felt the way he felt around Harry with anyone else. Maybe Terri sometimes, but it wasn't the same. Terri got paid to sit and listen to him whine, to try to dissect him. Harry was just... there. Of his own free-will. Louis wasn't really sure what Harry was getting out of this whole exchange, but he hoped it was something. He hoped it wasn't one-sided because it wouldn't last. Louis wanted to get used to days like this. He wanted to spend more time next to Harry, let Harry make him laugh. He didn't know why he was so inclined to trust it, because these things were normally so suspicious to him. Normally he knew he couldn't trust. He had been aware for his entire life that he was a means-to-an-end sort of person. That people subjected themselves to him because they needed something, but he wasn't really sure what it was that Harry needed, despite the number of times he'd asked.  

He feared though, most of all, that what Harry needed he couldn't give. He didn't know how to be there, like, emotionally for someone. He hoped that wasn't what Harry wanted of him, because he was a basket case. He was barely three weeks out of the mental hospital. Harry couldn't really rely on him in any real sort of way.  

"Lou?" Harry's voice was tentative. Louis couldn't fathom why.  

"Mmm," said Louis, not opening his eyes. The moment was sombre, like somehow they'd gone right back to the darkness that Louis kept opening up.  

"Can I ask you something, like, really personal?" 

Louis stomach started doing somersaults again, but he was almost getting used to the feeling, "I think we passed personal awhile ago," 

Harry gave a small laugh, but it wasn't real. It was... put on. Was he nervous? Was that something Harry felt? Louis hadn't seen any sign of nerves from Harry to date. It was all very strange. He felt Harry roll over so he was facing Louis, but Louis couldn't open his eyes—he wouldn't. He didn't want to get too caught up and lose this moment.  

"You said Matt wasn't your boyfriend..." Harry was practically whispering the words as he said them, and Louis stomach was not doing somersaults anymore, it was rolling angrily and making him feel ill, "but, have you ever been in love?" 

Louis had the sudden sensation of falling, his skin was flushing now with something other than the heat of the sun. The feeling only fed the sickness in his belly, and the sense that he was falling through the air made him force his eyes open in an attempt to best the feeling. The question was a lot. It was, in all honesty, a whole lot more than he'd signed up for. Louis didn't know how to get anywhere near this subject. If ever there was a person on the planet that was the least qualified at even defining what love was, it was Louis Tomlinson. He'd never been anywhere near where love might actually happen. Everything he knew about the feeling came from the books and the poetry he read, and even in those he'd mostly learned to assume that if love was anything, it was fleeting. It never seemed to last. It seemed a bit like Louis himself. It felt to him like a hurricane that left nothing but devastation in it's wake—but he didn't _know_ that. He didn't know it because he'd never been close enough to it for real.  

"I never really got the chance... I guess. I don’t really know what being in love would even look like,” 

Harry squirmed a bit next to him, maybe shuffling closer, but Louis couldn't be sure because he'd closed his eyes again. He felt Harry's knee brush against his thigh and everything was so much hotter than it had been thirty seconds before. Louis' head was spinning again and he didn't know how to make it stop. He'd completely lost his centre of gravity somehow and all he could feel was Harry's gaze on him. The whole atmosphere around them had shifted, even Harry's tone of voice. Maybe it was because they'd climbed so high onto the lookout, but the air felt thinner, like Louis couldn't actually take in enough to fill his lungs. He felt something then, against his palm, just a soft tickle against his sweaty skin, and he involuntarily moved to brush off whatever it was, assuming it was a bug. Harry captured his hand then, without warning. His palm pressed against Louis'. This time, though, it wasn't brief or fleeting in any way. He held fast, his fingers and thumb surrounding Louis' thumb completely, and yeah, there was definitely something wrong with the air up there. Louis wasn't actually breathing, all he could feel was a pulse in his throat and the dizziness from before intensified. He had to open his eyes to stop it, but it was risky, because he really didn't know if he could handle facing Harry.  

"Lou?" Harry's voice was the same whisper as before, a rasp to it, with a hint of desperation in the word. He wanted Louis to open his eyes and look at him. Louis felt that question behind the word.  

Slowly, Louis opened his eyes, finding some level of bravery that he didn't know he'd been in possession of. There was Harry, his face not five inches from Louis'. He was laying on his side, curled up so that his knee was against Louis' thigh and one arm curled up under his head. His pupils were huge, the green nearly gone from them completely. He looked so focused on Louis that Louis felt a flush creep up his neck. He looked at Harry's other hand, which inexplicably was still grasping onto Louis'. Both of their palms were sweaty, but it didn't seem to bother Harry because he was still gripping it with the same force he'd originally used to hold it in place.  

The thing that Louis was most hung up on, though, was Harry's breathing. His mouth was opened just a bit, and his breaths were shallow and quick. Louis didn't miss the way Harry's chest seemed to shake with every couple of breaths. He felt Harry's exhales against his chin, and he thought that maybe Harry noticed it too, the lack of air around them. It seemed like he was having difficulty breathing as well. Harry's eyes didn't leave him. They were focused on... was it his lips? Was Harry staring at his mouth? Louis was confused. He didn't know how they'd gotten here. There wasn't a map in the world that could have explained it to him. He felt his heart-rate quicken.  

There was very suddenly, a literal cloud that took over Harry's face. The sun was taken away and Harry's skin turned grey with the lack of it. He started to lift his head then, and it looked like he was moving closer to Louis, and Louis felt himself reacting in quite literally the most unexpected possible way. His body shifted and he turned onto his side and felt the heat falling off of Harry's body, because he'd gotten closer. Harry had moved closer and he'd responded by moving even closer, but still Harry's face was floating close to his and his breath was blowing across Louis' cheeks and he could smell Harry's toothpaste and his mind was racing a mile a minute. There were a billion things going on inside of his head that it was almost deafening. He realized then that his own breathing was heavy and jagged and Harry's face was definitely coming closer to him, but what did that _mean_? Why was his body slowly inclining toward Harry's? Was he just imagining that? 

Then, just as Harry's long exhale, which was only a few centimetres away from Louis' face now, brushed back his fringe, the sky opened up and started to pour on them. Whatever unfathomable spell that had been happening between them (which had Louis memorizing every breath Harry had taken) had been broken and they both gasped in shock as the cool rain met all the places on their skin that had only a moment ago, been cooked from the sun. For one brief second, Harry looked disappointed, but the emotion ran it's course quickly and then he was laughing. The rain had collected in his eyelashes, and it dripped across his nose, down his chin and Louis found himself laughing, too. It was so unexpected. They were both still reeling from the sudden change of the moment they'd been trapped in, that they needed that moment of laughter to break down whatever lingering strangeness there had been between them.  

Suddenly, then, Harry let go of Louis' hand, quickly getting to his feet. He looked down at Louis who was still working through the loss of the warmth Harry had been filling him with, still smiling. He reached his hand out to help Louis to his feet. Louis gripped on to it tightly and let Harry pull him to his feet. Harry didn't let go of his hand this time, instead he tugged Louis along behind him as they made their decent from the lookout.  

By the time they reached Louis' car they were both soppy wet messes, but Harry had not dropped Louis' hand. Harry's hair had grown a few inches by the weight of the water and hung well passed his shoulders. Louis watched as the raindrops fell from his hair, passed his eyebrows and down the curvature of his face. Harry was... indescribable for Louis. Every single part of his face was so perfectly symmetrical and instead of looking like a drowned rat, like Louis imagined he did, Harry looked like a Greek god or something. Like Poseidon himself had stepped out of the water and was stood in front of Louis... starting at him—like he'd been all day. Harry was... 

Harry laughed lightly then, tugging on Louis' hand which he still hadn't released, "you know, you're kind of beautiful, Lou," 

And _bam_. Just like that, Harry had stolen the word right out of Louis' brain and spat it back at him. Never before in his life had Louis ever had that word aimed at him. Never before had someone been so willing to hand over a compliment of any calibre. This one had rolled off Harry's tongue so easily, like it was simply a statement of fact and not something that really meant anything more or anything less than just that. 

But it wasn't a fact. Louis just was. He was notorious. He was anonymous. He was synonymous with a million other harsher descriptors... but Harry? Harry was the definition of beauty—inside and out. For Harry, it was just a statement of fact. There was no way a single living person could deny Harry's beauty, but for him to turn around a thrust a word like that at Louis? It was way more than he'd signed up for. It was more than he could process. He didn't know what it meant. What it changed. Of course, he'd always seen the beauty in Harry. It had always been there, staring him in the face, but he'd never taken the time to analyse it because there was so many other things about him that were more striking.  

Like maybe the fact that he was _still_ holding Louis' hand, still smiling lightly like he hadn't sent Louis brain off the deep end.  

Was Louis meant to respond? Was that what people were supposed to do when someone said something like that? He didn't know what to say, so he followed his commonly wrong instincts. 

"You don't have to say that," 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, before smirking again, "just take the compliment, Louis. Don't over-think it," 

Louis nodded once, not knowing what else to say. He just watched Harry closely as he stood there, next to Marsha, Louis' soggy hand still firmly in his grasp. Harry looked up toward the sky, smile still set in place. The rain was coming harder now, but they were already soaked to the bone. Harry didn't seem in a hurry to get to the shelter of the car. He didn't seem in a hurry to do much but let the rain fall all over him. He looked so content, and Louis wished he could just stop trying to think about everything and just bask in the feeling, because he was content too. He'd never really felt something like this. It all came so easily with Harry, and there was a lot to think about. A lot of angles to analyse and try to figure out what it was between them that made it like this. What was different now? Had something in Louis changed, or was it just who Harry was? 

Harry let go of his hand then, and for the first time that day, Louis felt an emptiness sink into him. Quickly though, he felt Harry's hand snake around his back and grasp his hip.  

"I guess sometimes the rain can have its moments," noted Harry, finally glancing down at Louis. He squeezed Louis' hip softly and gestured with his other hand to Marsha, "shall we?" 

Louis nodded once, digging in his pocket for the keys. He handed them to Harry, and Harry grinned back, making for the driver's seat. Louis allowed himself one ten second break to grip onto the back of his car and try not to hyperventilate while he thought about whatever was happening. He was getting lost in it, and he was definitely on the verge of a breakdown. It was only three in the afternoon and he felt very aware that there was a whole lot more day to live through. He was pretty certain it wasn't going to end here. Harry had asked him for the day, not a portion of it. Louis couldn't even imagine what would come next. He took one deep breath and then made his way to the passenger's seat. When he got in, Harry was watching.  

"I feel like we're committing a crime against humanity," 

The anxiety in Louis' stomach eased up a bit, "and why is that?" 

"I'm soaking wet and my shoes are muddy and I got into a Mercedes," 

"That's not a crime against humanity, Harry, she's not human," 

"Shh," said Harry, mocking offence, "she has feelings. You're insulting her," 

 

Louis thanked whatever deity was responsible for making their drive back to Harry's flat uneventful. Harry didn't really talk to him. He sang quietly along to the radio, and Louis got to add another thing to the list of things that were beautiful about Harry. His voice was lovely. Just like on the drive to the lookout, Harry's calm washed over Louis. He relaxed into the seat and despite how gross his clothing felt against his skin, he was content again.  

When they got to Harry's flat, instead of pulling up to the front, Harry pulled the car into a parking space. He shut off the engine and looked over at Louis again.  

"You're coming up, right?" 

Louis looked down at himself, taking in the state that his body was in, "I'm a mess," 

"I have a shower, and clothes you can borrow," 

Louis hesitated, but Harry wasn't having any of it. He got out of the car and slammed his door shut. Before Louis could really work through his decision, (because he knew he wasn't going to say no) his door was being pulled open.  

"Come on, Lou. We'll shower, order a pizza and play video games. I promise it'll be great," he reached out his hand again. 

Louis sighed, undoing his seatbelt. He knew he wasn't going to say no. He grabbed onto Harry's hand and let himself be pulled out of the car.  

 

Harry's flat was on the very top floor of the 5 floor building. The lift was old and slightly terrifying and Louis felt pretty certain that at some point, someone was going to meet their demise in it, but he wasn't about to say that to Harry. Harry stood next to him, ringing out his hair onto the floor, making Louis laugh at the massive puddle he'd created. When they finally stepped off the lift, Harry's flat was just a few steps down the hall. He opened the door and the smell of the tiny apartment washed over Louis quickly. It smelled a bit like Harry and a lot like baked goods. It also had an undertone of marijuana and whisky. The flat was open, with the kitchen facing the main living space where there was a kitchen table crammed in one corner and two sofas were in the centre of the living room. In front of the large window was a flat screen TV. It was all very normal and very Harry. Louis liked it immediately.  

"It's not the Ritz, but it does the job," 

Louis jabbed him with his elbow, "was that a subtle dig, Curly?" 

Harry grinned down at him, "I figured you'd stayed there," 

"Well, if it's any consolation, I happen to like your flat a whole lot more than The Ritz," 

"Good," said Harry, walking into the kitchen. He grabbed two muffins off the counter and handed one to Louis.  

"Do honestly have a supply of muffins to offer guests?" 

Harry shrugged, a smirk on his lips, "I baked them this morning. I was hoping they'd be enough to convince you to come over," 

Louis laughed then, biting into the dessert. It was delicious. Of course Harry was an excellent baker. It just made sense. Harry kicked off his shoes and walked further into the flat, gesturing for Louis to follow.  

"But I'm gross," protested Louis as he hovered in the entrence way, trying to kick off his shoes, but they were wet and they clung to him. Harry disappeared down the hallway for a moment before he came back with a towel and a stack of clothes.  

"You can shower first," said Harry, handing the pile to Louis. Louis gripped onto it and nodded his thanks to Harry, who led him through the flat and into the bathroom.  

"If you need anything else, just call me," said Harry, shutting the bathroom door behind him.  

Louis looked around the tiny bathroom. The tub was a pastel green that matched the toilet. There were grey tiles along most of the walls in the room, black mildew between almost every tile. They'd been scrubbed a million times, and it wasn't dirty, by far, Louis had been in a lot worse places, but it was old. It was charming in its own way, and Louis never really thought it would find scrubbed down mildew charming, but Louis never thought he'd find Harry either, so he was taking it in stride. He pulled his soaked clothing over his head and turned on the water as hot has he could handle, the chill from the rain having gotten into all of his pores.  

He let the hot water warm his skin and he scrubbed his hair with shampoo that was undeniably a large portion of Harry's scent. He breathed deeply, finding it almost calming to be inside of Harry's shower, using Harry's shampoo after spending half the day with Harry. It was a strange thing, this kinship he and Harry had found. It didn't make much sense to him, but it didn't have to. He was comfortable in it. He felt more like himself around Harry than he'd felt even on his own.  

When he was finished, he turned off the shower and stepped out. He wiped his face with the blue towel Harry had handed him and inhaled deeply. It smelled exactly like Harry. He let himself breathe it in one last time without analysis. He didn't need to understand everything he did. He'd have plenty of time to run it over when he got home. For now he was just going to enjoy it. He put down the towel once he was dry and pulled on the clothes that Harry had loaned him. The jumper and the track pants matched. They were an antique looking kind of faded yellow, and if Louis had seen them on a rack, he would have completely overlooked them. But, they were very Harry. They very much fit the boy who wore checkered pants and fedoras and bright golden boots. Harry was outstanding in the way he dressed, and it made a warmth sink into Louis' chest as he thought about it. The poise an confidence that Harry had to pull off such bold outfits was endearing.  

He met Harry in the living room then. Harry was sat on the floor, pouring through a stack of video games that were laid out all around him.  

"I was thinking maybe Mario Kart," he said absently as he continued to rifle through the stacks.  

"Okay," said Louis, rolling up the sleeves on the sweater that hung well past his wrists. 

Harry turned to look at him then, pressing his lips together as he stared. Louis felt his face flushing and he tugged on his fringe, needing to fidget with something to distract from whatever Harry was looking at.  

"You look," said Harry, searching for the words, "soft," 

"Soft?" 

Harry nodded, biting the corner of his lip to hide his smile. He got to his feet, then, a copy of Mario Kart in his hand, "yeah, soft," he confirmed, "sweet," 

 

Once Harry had finished his shower, they sat together on the couch. Harry handed Louis a controller and turned on the game. It was all kind of mindless, and Louis found that it was easy to get lost in it. Harry was kind of horrible at the game. Louis lapped him on nearly every single round they played, but Harry seemed oblivious. He just laughed happily and talked about how much he'd always loved Yoshi. Louis had to assume that he probably favoured Yoshi's cuteness over ever really learning how to play the game, because he was awful.  

By the time Louis had beaten Harry a solid ten times without Harry even coming close, he put down his controller.  

"Why would you even suggest this game? You're terrible at it," 

Harry elbowed him then, "yeah, but it's fun," Harry put down his controller as well, resting his arm along the back of the couch, not quite touching Louis' shoulders, "want to watch a movie or something, now?" 

"Tired of losing?" 

Harry grinned at him, "utterly exhausted," 

Louis laughed then, watching as Harry picked up his remote again. He opened Netflix and started flipping through the movies.  

"So, Niall is having a little party here tonight. Just a few lads from school, we're just having a few drinks and they'll probably watch some football. Would you stay?" 

Harry quite honestly had to exist in a separate reality from everyone else. People didn't invite Louis to parties. At least not quiet parties in their house. Louis' reputation was not really something that people wanted to risk having around. "You're inviting _me_ to a house party?" 

"Of course," said Harry like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  

"I don't know, it's not really my thing," 

"It's not really _my_ thing, but its happening in my flat and I'd appreciate having you here," 

"I'll think about it," 

"Say yes," 

"I'll think about saying yes," 

 

Louis didn't make it very far into Mulan before he was falling asleep. He kept trying to fight the sensation of sleep, but it kept creeping back onto him. He felt his body relaxing naturally, his limbs twitching as sleep overtook him. It was strange to him that with all of the things running through his head since he'd picked Harry up that morning that he was able to drift off so casually. He leaned his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes unwillingly. The last thing he saw was Harry smiling down at him. The last two things he felt were Harry brushing away his fringe from his eyes, and Harry covering him with a fleece blanket. It was nice. It was calm and quiet there with Harry, in all the ways that his life had never been calm or quiet.  

… 

Louis couldn't really be sure how long he'd been asleep, but he felt rejuvenated. It took him a moment to remember that he was on a couch in Harry's flat, but when he did it brought a smile to his face. He was still wrapped up under the blanket that Harry had covered him in, but Harry wasn't beside him. He wasn't anywhere near him, Louis realised as he opened his eyes. It was such a nice calm and happy way for him to wake up, that it took him a moment to even notice the hushed conversation that was happening behind him. He recognized Niall's voice straight off.  

"You brought Louis Tomlinson to our flat?" 

"Niall," Harry's voice was clipped and held a warning behind it.  

"Christ, Harry, you don't listen to anything I tell you, do you?" 

"Because you're _wrong_ ," there was a venom to Harry's words that he hadn't heard to date.  

"When is he leaving?" 

"I asked him to stay, like for the party and all," 

" _Harry,_ " hissed Niall, "you can't do that. Louis' trouble, okay? I don't care how cute you think he is or whatever, I'm serious here. You can't invite him to parties. Do you have any idea the kind of people he hangs out with?" 

"Yeah, _me_ ," 

"I'm serious, Harry. He's going to bring drugs here. Its supposed to just be a small get together, not a fucking rave," 

"You have no idea what you're talking about," 

"No, _you_ have no idea what you're talking about," Niall raised his voice, clearly not caring if Louis heard, "Liam grew up here. He'd told me shit. You know he got expelled from school when it was fifteen because there was _heroin_ in his locker?  _Heroin,_ Harry. Its not fucking pot he's smoking. I don't want him here," 


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress.

Louis waited until he heard the door to Niall's bedroom slam before he opened his eyes. He saw Harry straight away, and the guilt on his face was quite obvious as he flopped back onto the couch next to Louis.  

"You heard that, didn't you?" 

Louis nodded once.  

"Louis, I'm so sorry," started Harry.  

Louis shook his head once, "its true, you know. I did get kicked out of school for that," 

The guilt didn't leave Harry's eyes, "Matt?" He asked tentatively.  

Harry was officially he first person who had ever jumped to that conclusion. Matt had been expelled from every other school in town. The one where he and Louis had met was quite literally his last ditch. Up until that point, the trouble he and Matt had gotten into had mostly been petty. For some reason, it had made more sense to Louis to lock the drugs in his locker so he could save Matt's ass. It was really the first serious amount of trouble Louis had taken for him, but it hadn't been the last.  

What was really amazing, though, was that Harry had seen through it. Instead of making the assumption that they were Louis' drugs, like everyone else in the world had, Harry had picked up on the real issue.  

"That's not really relevant. It still happened. Your friends still think it was me," 

"You could tell people the truth," 

"It was a long time ago, Harry," 

Harry was quiet then, staring at his hands, fiddling with his rings. Louis pushed the blanket off of himself then.  

"I should get going," Louis meant it. He'd well overstated his welcome. He'd been blissfully unaware of the fact that fifty percent of the household was completely against him even being there.  

"You don't have to leave, Lou," 

Louis nodded slowly, "I do," 

Louis hated the sadness he saw shimmering in Louis' eyes. He hated that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop putting it there. He stood up, though, despite how guilty he felt for upsetting Harry. It didn't make any sense.  

Harry followed him silently to the front door.  

"Please come back tonight," Harry practically begged.  

Louis shook his head, "I can't," 

"You can," insisted Harry, "I invited you. I want you here," 

"I'm sorry," said Louis softly, trying to avoid  Harry's gaze, "I'll come see you at work tomorrow if you want," 

"I want that and I want you to keep me company tonight," 

Louis sighed softly, "I can't Harry. Tomorrow. I promise," 

   
 

When Louis got back down to his car, his head was spinning. Surprisingly, even to him, he wasn't really thinking much about what Niall had said. He was mostly going over and over the way Harry had looked at him before he left. Harry had seemed genuine in his sadness, and that was strange. He was able to find less and less excuses for it as time went on. He couldn't really understand why Harry wanted him around, or why he seemed so upset when he wasn't. It didn't make any sense, especially given that Louis had admitted Niall hadn't been wrong. Shouldn't Harry have learned to heed people's warnings by now? Harry didn't make sense. None of his motivations were obvious to Louis and it made it so much harder for him to find his way through whatever was happening.  

Louis wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to his life revolving around anything other than bad decisions and Harry never felt like a bad decision. He was surrounded by so many things that were different than they had been weeks ago and he didn't get any of it. It was overwhelming, honestly, and he wanted badly to be better at it because while upsetting Harry had quickly become something he excelled at, he wanted anything but that.  

   
 

When he got back to his house, he snuck quietly through the back door, knowing that his family was probably having dinner. He walked quietly up the stairs, listening to his mother and Fizzy laughing loudly and he felt something sink inside of him. Despite the fact that he'd spent quite literally the perfect day with Harry, there was a nagging loneliness when he entered his house that was hard to ignore. He'd gone so long without addressing any of his feelings that it was overwhelming to feel them all at once. Terri wanted him to talk about them, to sort through them and give them all of their power, but Louis just wanted them to go away. He wanted to be back in the safety of his numbness.  

He made it to the safety of his room before the feelings overwhelmed him. It was as if just the few words he'd said to Harry had opened the floodgates, because he was feeling everything all at once. Suddenly, all he could think about, sitting in the middle of that house, was his relationship with his family.  

Aside from Lottie, he couldn't even remember the last thing he'd said to any of his siblings. Fizzy and their mum were close enough to laugh at the dinner table and Louis had never had that. He couldn't remember ever laughing with his mother. He couldn't even remember the last time they'd spent a moment alone together.  

Louis' memories of his childhood mostly revolved around his grandmother and various nannies. There had always been someone around, but it had never been _her_. He had spent his life trying not to think about it. He'd prided himself on his ability to survive without her approval. But it wasn't really fair, was it?  

He didn't like it. He didn't like any of the things going on in his head. This exact thing that was happening to him now was the original reason he'd started using drugs to escape. He'd felt so small as he stood back and watched his mother parent his siblings like he'd never happened. As she threw things at him to make up for the fact that she couldn't even look at him. It was around that time that instead of shrinking small against her that he'd started to question it to himself. He'd started to wonder what on earth a small child could have done to her that made him so unworthy of her time.  

And now, with the drugs gone, the sadness he'd hid behind until it numbed him gone, he just felt small and worthless. Louis had been numb to his pain for years and years and he hadn't even noticed as it mounted into something he could no longer handle. He'd let something so small as feelings of abandonment build and build into a million different things until they'd choked and suffocated him to the point where he felt like he had no other option but to let it all go. He hadn't tried to kill himself because because his mum didn't love him. He'd tried because he was sick of letting people abuse him, sick of the whispers about him. He'd been sick of being in a constant state of both desiring the drugs that numbed him and wanting to be nothing like Matt. He was sick of being an alien in the middle of his family and of shrinking against everyone else, sick of being small and insignificant. He'd been so tired of being so utterly fucked up and unlovable.  

And now, he'd been thrust back into life without any of the things that had made it so much easier to deal with his inadequacy. It was a lot. It was overwhelming to suddenly, after 20 years of conditioning and an honest belief that he was worthless, have not even just one, but _three_ people telling him otherwise.  

The last two days had been exhausting and for some reason he didn't understand, he was seething with jealousy. It wasn't something he'd really ever allowed himself to feel before then. But he felt wronged. He wanted to have whatever his sisters and the babies had that made them worthy of their mother's love. Sure, it hadn't always been as bad as Louis had made it, but there was always something missing. It had started with neglect, with her forgetting to acknowledge that she had a son. It had made Louis into the insecure basket case he'd entered his teenaged years as, and it had made him an easy victim for anyone he came into contact with. It had given him the insatiable desire for validation from anywhere he could find it. And lastly, when he'd never truly found that validation, it had made him the sort of person who needed to escape. It had given him the constant desire to break everything first, since it had become the only power he had. He'd kept making stupid decisions, getting arrested because he needed to give his mother a reason to hate him.  

It was a lot for him to finally be faced with. And it was overwhelming to the point where he didn't even know if he could break. He felt stony, hardened and broken so thoroughly that he pain was the only thing holding him together. It was something akin to those car crash victims that were pinned against a tree. They were kept alive  _because_ the vehicle was still pressed against them, but surely, if the vehicle—his pain—was taken away he'd die just the same. The pain was the only thing holding all of his broken bits together.  

He heard his phone chime from his pocket then. He wasn't sure if the distraction would help or if he just wanted to indulge himself and finally feel his pain.  

He checked it, though, because Harry had somehow made checking his phone way less horrifying than it had always been.  

**_Curly: Just letting you know that the offer stands. I have no choice but to be at this party and I'm mad at Niall, so if you came you'd really just be saving me from misery!_ **

**_Louis: Harry...._ **

**_Curly: Lou...??_ **

**_Louis: I'd say yes if you were asking me anything else in the world_ **

**_Curly: Skydiving?_ **

**_Louis: What time should I pick you up?_ **

**_Curly: Seriously, though. If you change your mind, or if you get bored..._ **

**_Louis: I promise if I change my mind you'll be the first to know_ **

****   
****

Louis felt bad, was the thing. He wanted to be able to say yes, but it just didn't make sense. He'd already spent so much time outside of his comfort zone. He couldn't imagine subjecting himself to hanging out in Harry's flat with all his friends. He didn't want to sit around and either be ignored or be grilled with a million condescending questions.  

He wished it was easier. He wished he could be able to say yes. Being alone with Harry had proven to be a really okay place to be. It was quite honestly the best place he'd been in a long time. Harry didn't make him feel like a freak. He didn't make him feel like a contagious disease. He just made him feel comfortable, a place that Louis was completely unfamiliar with. He'd already told Harry more than he'd ever told another human being that wasn't being paid to listen.  

He put his phone down and walked over to his bookshelf. He slid his fingers across the spines as he read the titles. He stopped at _The Merchant of Venice_ and plucked it from his shelf and settled under his covers.  

 ...  
 

It was after ten by the time his phone chimed again. He'd been desperately trying to sleep, because he was bored. He'd already turned over every possible thought in his head and Lottie hadn't so much as poked her head in to check on him. She probably hadn't even noticed him come home. He'd mostly finished skimming through the parts of the play that he'd didn't already have completely memorized.  

He didn't hesitate to pick up the phone this time. He slid open the texts quickly and smiled when he saw Harry's name. For once, it was exactly the one he was expecting (and hoping for).  

**_Curly: You said you'd say yes to anything else and I want kebabs. Come with?_ **

**_Louis: Okay. Should I come pick you up?_ **

   
 

When Louis pulled up to Harry's building, Harry was sitting on the front lawn. He pulled into a parking spot in front of him and shut off the engine. He got out of the car quickly, to join Harry on the lawn. Harry got unsteadily to his feet as Louis approached, a large grin on his face. Harry had his long hair pulled into a bun at the back of his head. He looked... off. There was something different about him.  

The moment that he reached Harry, Harry shocked him thoroughly by pulling him into a tight hug.  

"Hi, Lou," 

Instead of feeling the million different things he expected to feel from being in such close proximity to another person, he felt himself smile. His arms went around Harry, steadying him, because he'd nearly knocked Louis over with his enthusiasm.  

"You smell like a distillery," Louis' voice was soft, teasing gently.  

Harry hiccupped once, pulling back from the hug and trying to regain his balance, "I drank a lot of vodka,"  

"I can see that," there was a smirk on Louis' face that he couldn't wipe away.

Harry wasn't obnoxious, he was just as sweet as always, it was just a bit amped up with the liquor and the loss of his centre of gravity. Louis didn't mind it.  

Harry grabbed onto Louis' shoulder, swaying slightly with his drunk, "I think I need to sit," 

And with that, Harry dropped onto the ground with a thud so loud that Louis knew Harry would feel regret in the morning. He tugged on Louis' wrist, urging him to sit down next to him. When he did, Harry rested his head against Louis' shoulder.  

"Wish I could make everything stop spinning," 

"Don't close your eyes, it gets worse," 

Harry groaned loudly.  

"You even going to make it to the kebab shop?" Teased Louis.  

"Don't mock me, Louis. I don't appreciate it," Harry tried laughing to punctuate himself. "Ugh, Lou, I got really drunk," 

"I can see that," 

"Never befriend the Irish, it's a trap," Harry hiccupped for emphasis. 

"You gonna puke, Curly?" 

"D'you think I will?" 

"You're hiccuping," 

Harry moaned, rolling his head back and forth on Louis' shoulder, "that a bad sign?" 

"'Fraid so," 

It was funny, the whole thing, because Louis just felt... happy. Harry was drunk out of his mind and it wasn't miserable or sad, it was just sweet and adorable. Louis could have lived in that moment forever and be just fine. It was comfortable and there were no insecurities hanging over him. He just laughed easily at Harry's drunken display.  

"I really am sorry, Lou," started Harry, not lifting his head off of Louis' shoulder, "I really did want you to stay tonight," 

"I know," 

"You could have saved me from vodka," 

"And miss all this? Blasphemy," 

Harry still hadn't lifted his head off Louis' shoulder. As he laughed at Louis' joke, his rolled his head around and his nose pressed into Louis' neck. When he spoke, his voice sent air rushing across Louis' collarbones.  

"I feel like we should have an adventure. We should go back to the lookout," 

"We're not even going to make it to the kebab shop, Harry, I seriously doubt you'd make it up that hill," 

Harry sighed heavily, "I'm sorry," 

"Sorry for what, Curly?" 

"I asked you to come here and I can barely even stand up. That wasn't very nice," 

Louis wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder, "I don't mind. Was better than sitting at home pretending I had something else to do," 

Harry leaned into him then, and that was the moment that Louis actually noticed that he had reached out to Harry without even considering it. It happened naturally, and the thing was that nothing physical had ever happened naturally for Louis. Especially not something he initiated. But, even as he analysed it, it didn't feel wrong.  

"I'm sorry, again, about Niall," hiccupped Harry.  

"Not your fault," 

"Not _your_ fault," Harry joked.  

"Technically, it was," 

Harry elbowed him and then attempted to get to his feet, he giggled as he struggled to find his footing. Louis got up, then too, reaching out to steady Harry.  

"You know what I miss? Swimming," he grabbed onto Louis' hand and started walking off the grass, "let's go find a lake, have a nice swim,"  

Louis was laughing as he let himself be lead toward the street, "it's cold, Harry," 

Harry stopped then, looking at Louis seriously, "it is?" 

Louis smiled fondly, nodding slowly.  

"But I want to swim," 

"I'll make you a deal," started Louis, "today, we get kebabs, next weekend you can come to mine and we can swim," 

"Really?" Harry's face positively glowed with his smile, "you'd bring me to your house?" 

Louis nodded once, "and it'll be nice, my family is going to Nice for the weekend, so the staff will be off, too. It'll be quiet," 

Harry grinned wider, wrapping his arms around Louis again, crushing him in a hug, "you have staff," he mocked softly, as he shifted all his weight onto Louis' smaller frame, nearly knocking him down yet again, "and a swimming pool," 

Harry wasn't dragging Louis, he wasn't pointing out their differences out of cruelty or because he was trying to make Louis feel like an outcast. He was making jokes because they were comfortable together. Because he knew that while Louis had always lived in a world where those things were normal, it didn't make them _that_ different. They still, somehow found this rhythm easily.  

"Well, without staff, who'd clean the pool?" Teased Louis.  

The thing with the banter that had unfolded so naturally between he and Harry was that Louis' hadn't really known this part of himself. He hadn't really realized that he _had_ a sense of humour before these moments with Harry. Sure, he'd always been sarcastic, had even showed that side of himself to Terri, but that sarcasm was more often a self-defence mechanism. He'd normally just made dark jokes to prevent someone else from saying the same things and scarring him deeper. This thing with Harry, though, it was different. Harry was teasing him, but it wasn't hurtful. He'd never experienced something like that before.  

Harry was quiet, then. He was still hugging Louis closely, still laying all of his body weight against him, but he seemed off. He was unresponsive to Louis' joke and that was odd.  

"You okay, Curly?" 

Harry made some sort of non-committal sound, "I need to sit,"  

Louis helped to detach Harry from their hug. They'd made it only a few metres from where they'd been sitting just moments ago. Louis sat back down on the grass next to Harry and looked over to him. His face was pale, faintly green and he was staring at the ground like he wished he was anywhere else in the world. He was a total mess. Louis reached out to him, rubbing his back softly.  

"You gonna be sick?" 

Harry's eyes were watery, and Louis remembered the days he'd spent as a teenager in this exact same spot. He could remember feeling like the whole world was spinning and like he would have given anything to go back in time to before the drink that had pushed him over the edge. Harry looked up at him remorsefully.  

"I think I might," 

"Do you want to go back upstairs, can you make it there?" 

Harry shook his head and got to his feet in record time. He ran instantly toward the front doors. Louis wasn't even to his feet yet before he saw Harry, hunched over the bin out front of his building, throwing up as gracefully as Louis had probably ever seen someone throw up. A pang of sadness hit him, because he didn't like to see Harry like this. He'd liked the silly, funny boy who teased him kindly despite the loss of his equilibrium. It made him feel a really unjustified amount of sadness to see Harry even slightly uncomfortable. Before he met Harry at the doors, he popped into his car to retrieve a pack of gum from the glovebox.  

Harry didn't watch Louis approach, he just stared at the ground with something that looked like shame in his eyes. Again, without thinking, Louis draped his arm around Harry's slumped shoulders.  

"I'm sorry," said Harry 

"It's okay," Louis assured him in the most firm voice he could find, "do you feel better now?" 

Harry nodded once, but didn't say another word.  

Louis pulled out one of the gums and handed it to Harry, "you want to go upstairs now?" 

Harry popped the gum into his mouth and then leaned into Louis, wrapping an arm around his waist. He pressed head onto Louis' shoulder and sighed, "I want to stay with you," 

"How about I take you upstairs," 

Harry pulled away from him then, meeting his eyes, "you'd take me upstairs?" 

Louis chewed the inside of his lip, because he knew Niall was up there, that a bunch of people were up there. He also knew that probably none of them wanted him to be up there. But, as he looked at Harry, his face completely drained of colour and his kind eyes looking for the sincerity in Louis' words, Louis didn't care. He didn't care at all, because the thought of letting Harry try to find his own way up there, to try and tuck himself into bed was horrible. He needed Louis, and Louis wouldn't be able to live with his guilt if he let his fear stand in the way of him taking care of Harry.  

"Of course," 

Harry hugged him again, "don't know what I did to deserve you," 

Harry had said the words that Louis had gone over and over in his head a million times. The only difference was, Louis knew he _didn't_ deserve whatever it was that Harry kept giving to him. He wanted to, though. He wanted to be able to understand it. He wanted to be _worthy_  of it.  

Getting harry onto the lift was easier than Louis had imagined it would be. He was walking more steadily now, mostly just complaining that he was tired. He still slumped most of his body weight onto Louis, but Louis still didn't mind. When they got to Harry's floor, though, anxiety sunk into Louis' stomach. He started to plan his actions out as quickly as he could. He'd take Harry inside, and duck out of sight of all the other people, get Harry to drink some water, tuck him into his bed and take off as quickly as he could. It wasn't ideal, and he hated to put such pressure on his time with Harry, but he also knew what he could and could not handle. He knew that he was nowhere near ready to deal with drunken strangers making comments about his intentions with Harry, about how he was sure to corrupt his kind heart. He didn't want that, he just wanted Harry in his bed safe and sound.  

But, as he looked over to Harry, who had his arm fastened tightly around Louis' waist, he saw the expression on his face. He had that same pale, green look to his skin. He was going to be sick again. Thankfully, this time, they were stood in front of Harry's front door.  

"Here, let's get you inside," said Louis, softly pulling Harry forward as he opened the door to the flat.  

When they were through the door, Louis mentally tried to calculate how many paces it was to the loo, hoping to make it there before anyone noticed they'd entered. But it didn't work like that.  

Niall turned right as they crossed the threshold, "Harry?" He said, meeting Louis' eyes.  

Something awful settled into Louis' stomach.  

Instead of responding, Harry shook his head from side to side, pulled himself off of Louis and covered his mouth with one of his hands. He shot off— _without_ Louis—toward the toilet and Louis was left standing in the doorway like a complete idiot, just starting back at Niall. Then, by the grace of god, two of the boys that were playing FIFA started yelling loudly at each other. This distracted Niall and he turned away, giving Louis half a second to recover and follow after Harry.  

As he walked, as quickly as possible through the flat, he grabbed one of the red party cups off a clean stack on the kitchen table. He wasn't exactly sure where he and Harry were at, friendship wise. He wasn't sure if he should knock on the door and follow Harry inside, or his he could grant him the privacy of throwing up without Louis watching. He opted for a mixture of both. He waited until he couldn't hear Harry anymore and then kocked on the door.  

"Can I come in?" 

Louis heard the toilet flush and then the door opened slowly. Harry stood in front of him, a toothbrush in his mouth and a nervous smile on his face.  

"Proper mess I am," he joked around the toothpaste in his mouth.  

"Everyone gets to be a mess sometimes. This one's a free pass. You let me be a proper mess once today, too," 

Harry smiled while he scrubbed his teeth and gestured for Louis to follow him into the tiny washroom. Louis entered slowly, making his way to the sink. He turned on the cold water and let it run for a moment before filling the cup in his hands. He moved out of the way then and hovered in the opened doorway while Harry rinsed out his mouth.  

"Better?" He asked once Harry turned around to face him.  

Harry nodded and Louis handed him the cup. Harry took a sip immediately.  

"Drink the whole thing, you won't feel as terrible in the morning,"  

Harry nodded obediently and they began walking to his bedroom. The moment they stepped out of the washroom, he saw Niall, standing just a few feet away, just watching. Like he'd been there all along. Maybe he had been and Louis had been too preoccupied with Harry to even notice. And even though he'd noticed now, and he and Niall had made a brief moment of eye contact, Niall didn't say a word. He just watched as Louis lead Harry to his bedroom.  

Louis closed the door behind them and helped Harry into his bed. He still had his trainers on, so Louis unlaced them and put them neatly next to his bed.  

"I just want to sleep, Lou," mumbled Harry, his face already in his pillow, "you can stay if you want," 

Louis shook his head slowly, Harry couldn't see it though. "What time do you work tomorrow?" 

"Noon," Harry's voice sounded close to sleep, so Louis knew the conversation was almost over.  

"Do you want a ride?" 

"'Kay," the word drifted into the air softly and barely coherent, and Louis knew that the night was over. It was time for him to leave now.  

"Goodnight, Curly," he said, not expecting a response, and putting his hand on the door knob. Just as he pulled the door open, he heard Harry's soft voice.  

"Goodnight, Cheekbones," 

Louis smiled to himself as he took his first step out of the bedroom. His was too caught up in his own thoughts to be bothered worrying about escaping unseen. He'd made it to all the way to the front door, his hand hovering over the door knob before he heard his name.  

"Louis?" 

His hand froze over the doorknob. He didn't want to turn around, because the only person in the flat who he was okay with speaking to was already passed out. He couldn't turn around. He just wanted to run. He wanted to be far away from Niall and he certainly didn't want to have a conversation with the guy.  

"I'm leaving," he said, hearing his voice shake with the words.  

All he'd wanted was to make sure that Harry got to bed safely. He hadn't wanted this. He'd just wanted to _deserve_  whatever it was that Harry gave him. He didn't want to be given an itemized list of reasons why he didn't. Summoning some form of bravery, he turned the door knob and walked out without acknowledging whatever it was that Niall wanted to say to him. He was definitely taking the stairs. There was no way he'd be willing to risk Niall catching him while he waited for the lift.  

The moment he closed the door to the flat and started toward the stairwell, he heard it open again. The anxiety in Louis' stomach started to build. He didn't want to deal with this, especially without Harry around. He quickened his pace, but it was futile because Niall was Harry's best friend. He wasn't about to snub him and ruin whatever reputation he had left with Harry. He said a silent prayer that he was just imagining things, and that Niall wasn't following him, but he wasn't that lucky.  

"Hey, Louis," called Niall, "can you just wait up a second?" 

Louis swallowed hard and stopped moving forward. He wasn't really interested in turning around, in actually facing Niall, but he figured that, that too, would just be a matter of time. Niall caught up to him quickly. Louis stared at the floor as Niall moved to stand in front of him.  

"Thanks," Niall just said the one word, not even giving Louis the slightest clue what he was even referencing.  

"Um," started Louis, still staring directly at the floor. He couldn't meet Niall's eyes. He was terrified.  

"For, what you did for Harry. That was really nice," Niall clarified before Louis could summon the strength to ask the question himself.  

Louis nodded once, "I should get home," 

"No, seriously, Louis. Harry doesn't drink much, so he can be a bit of a mess, and I appreciate you helping him. I mean it," 

"It's fine," said Louis, and more than anything, he felt his body trying to pull him away from this moment. He wanted to run because this was so much more than he was really ready to handle. He was bad at conversation, especially with someone who had made it perfectly clear that he wasn't a fan of Louis.  

They were both quiet for a long moment, Louis' mind was racing all kinds of places. He didn't know what Niall's angle was. He didn't know why he was thanking Louis. He had already made his opinion more than clear, so an apology made very little sense to Louis. Niall didn't seem like the sort of person who readily handed out 'thank-you's. He wasn't, honestly, very good at it. Which made Louis feel like maybe it was coming from some sort of genuine place, but Louis was generally a pretty awful judge of character, so he really couldn't be sure. He couldn't really trust his judgement.  

Finally, it was Niall who broke the silence.  

"Listen, I owe you an apology for earlier," 

Louis' head shot up, then and he met Niall's gaze, "uh," Louis was seriously graceful with words (he wasn't).  

"Yeah," started Niall, "I was a wanker, a right fucking dick actually, and I think you might have proven me wrong. As much as I really hate being wrong, I really don't mind so much when it comes to Harry. He's my best mate, you know, and I've seen him go through a lot of shit, and I think that it made me start to think the worst of everyone and that wasn't really fair of me," 

Louis wanted to say something. Mostly, what he wanted to say was the succession of words that would release him from this conversation, allow him to get in his car and drive the hell away from this.  

"Harry was really mad at me for saying that shit about you, and I didn't get it. I heard so much shit from other people that I thought I was right about you. Harry never drinks like that, but I think I really hurt his feelings. He really wanted you to stay tonight, never shut up about it really. I think it was my fault that he drank so much, and then I didn't even pay attention to him. I never even saw him leave," Niall sighed heavily, "so, thank you for picking up my slack. I don't know what it is about you that he saw, but I was wrong to worry about it. I can see you only want the best for him, same as me," 

Niall had just apologized. Louis didn't have a clue what planet he was on. He didn't know how to react at all, because it didn't seem real. This wasn't how Louis' life went. These weren't the type of people who surrounded him.  

"You really care about him, don't you?" Niall was trying to meet Louis' eyes, but Louis refused.  

Louis nodded once, because, yeah, he really did care about Harry, "I've gotta go," 

"It's alright, mate, you can stay," 

Louis really didn't want that. He didn't know why Niall would even suggest it. The only common thing they had between them was Harry, and Harry was long passed out. Louis couldn't even imagine walking back through that door. It was the scariest thing he could think of in that moment.  

"Can't," 

It was so weird, speaking to Niall. The only thing he could think of was how _small_ he felt next to him. They weren't meant to interact, not like this.  

"Alright, but you'll stay for the next banger, yeah? Clear your schedule," and with that, Niall pulled him into a tight hug. Louis' whole body went rigid, "just be good to my Hazza, yeah?" Said Niall as he pulled away from Louis. 

"Yeah," 

Niall smiled then, an expression that suited his face far better than the judgemental stare that Louis had learned to expect of him. He smacked Louis on the back, before he started to walk back to the flat, "cheers, Louis, mate," 

Louis stood stupidly in the hallway for a long moment after he heard the door to Niall and Harry's flat close. He wasn't sure what was happening in a single aspect of his life anymore.  

But, even within the chaos, it felt better somehow. He noticed then, that he was smiling. It was just small, barely there because he was mostly more shocked than anything, but things felt kind of okay, and maybe Louis didn't mind chaos so much.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never ever planned for Niall to be a villain.


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this chapter took so bloody long for me to update. I won't lie. The new season of orange is the new black came out last weekend... and we all know how that went. But I'm back. With a vengeance. (and I watched the whole season, so temptation has gone).

Waking up on Sunday morning was more pleasant than Louis was used to. He didn't remember any of his dreams, so there was no lingering anxiety to deal with, and he'd slept in way later than he was used to. He grabbed his phone straight away, hoping there were going to be some unread texts from Harry. When he looked down at it, though, there were no new messages. He sighed and sat up in his bed, contemplating a shower. When he sat up, though, he noticed that the couch was occupied. Lottie had a makeup brush in one hand and a mirror in the other and was brushing her eyelids relentlessly. She spared a glanced at him before going back to work.  

"Where were you last night?" She asked, the suspicion heavy in her words.  

"Here mostly," 

"Not true, I saw you leave late. You didn't get home until even later," 

"Went to see Harry," 

She dropped the brush and the mirror on the couch and jumped up, "I knew it!" She dove into Louis' bed, laying on her stomach next to him, "spill," 

"Spill what? He asked honestly, because it really always seemed to him that Lottie thought a lot of things that weren't even close to being true.  

"What happened?" 

"I went to his house," 

"And?" 

Louis laughed, "there is no 'and' Lots, we just hung out," 

"You know he fancies you, right?" 

Louis laughed out loud (if a bit humourlessly) at Lottie's words, "he doesn't," explained Louis, "we're friends, he barely even knows me," 

Lottie sighed in what seemed to be annoyance, "whatever," she said, resting her head on one of his pillows, she stared up at the ceiling like Louis had said something to personally offend her.  

He liked his sister, he really did. He liked them hanging out together and her obnoxious approach to everything, but underneath it all, she was still just a kid. She didn't actually understand how the real world worked. She was a thirteen year old girl. The whole world revolved around boys for her. She probably thought that every boy in her class had a crush on her. Her observations weren't relevant to the real world. She had no idea how Louis' life really went. Romance had never been a part of his life. That was fine. He didn't know what it really meant anyway. He was just fine with Harry attempting to be his friend. There was nothing more going on there, and Lottie would catch on eventually.  

"What are you doing today, anyway?" Asked Lottie offhandedly  

"Nothing. Just giving Harry a ride to work," 

"Oh, well I'm coming, obviously," she grinned wickedly at him, "unless you'd rather be alone," 

"I don't think you're allowed to," Louis chose to ignore her childish innuendo.  

"It's called 'sneaking out'. Really, of all people I'd expect you to understand that," 

"I assume no responsibility for your life choices," he joked. 

"Listen, if I'm being dragged to France against my will next weekend, I'm not going to deny myself watching you and Harry interact like kindergarteners," 

Louis shoved her leg playfully with his foot, "I'm not sure if you know this about me but I'm kind of new to this whole 'having a friend' thing," 

"You're even worse at seeing the rest of it, too," 

Louis shoved her again, not really getting the reference.  

 

 ...

 

Lottie was mostly quiet for their drive to pick up Harry. She sat in the backseat and continued to fiddle with her makeup. She didn't make a single observation on their way to Harry's and in fact, stayed quiet until Harry opened the passenger door and hopped in, smiling happily over at Louis.  

"Hi Lou," he said, reaching across and squeezing Louis' hand on the steering wheel. 

At that, Lottie cleared her throat and Harry turned to face her. His smile lit up a couple of more watts when he realized she was in the backseat, "hey, Lottie," 

"Harry," she said, her smile lazy and cocky.  

"You didn't come in hopes I'd be able to replicate your drink order a second time, I hope," 

"Of course I did. I've made it my mission to help train you into a proper barista," 

Louis felt himself smile as he wateched them interact. He felt jealous, but it was pretty mild. He wished he could have been more like his sister and not second guess everything he said, but in the same breath he was happy to have her to balance him out. She pulled him back from the social suicide ledge a few times already, and he was grateful for that.  

 

When they got to Harry's work, Lottie didn't even have a second thought about following him inside or about taking the piss out of him when one of his co-workers made her drink without batting an eye. As much as Louis had come to crave the time he'd spent alone with Harry, he liked this, too. He liked to be a fly on the wall and watch as Harry and Lottie interact. He wished it was that easy for he and Harry, but it was calming to watch, regardless. He watched them with a soft smile on his face, argue about the taste difference between the regular vanilla flavour and the sugar-free one. He was lost in the whole exchange for the first half hour of Harry's shift. Then there was a chime from the front door. It wasn't entirely unusual, given that it had been busy for most of the time they'd been in there. For some reason, though, the chime caught Louis' attention and he looked to the door. There, grinning at Louis, was Matt. 

   
 Matt sauntered over to where Louis was standing at the hand-off plane and draped a lazy arm around Louis' shoulders.  

"I was just walking by and I saw your car in the parking lot, thought I'd drop in and say hi," he moved his mouth close to Louis' ear, "hi," he breathed the word, sending a chill down Louis' neck.  

Louis wished more than anything that he could have done something different so that he didn't have to live through this moment. So he didn't have to see the look of horror on Harry's face as he watched Matt.  

Matt kept his arm around Louis' shoulder, looking up to face Harry, "nice to see you again, Henry, was it?" 

Harry clenched his teeth, about to correct Matt, but Lottie beat him to it.  

"Harry," her voice was venomous, "Harry with the hair. It's not that hard to remember," 

Matt's eyes shot over to Lottie and something horrible sunk into Louis's stomach. His mother had been right. He was bad for Lottie. It could never be just as easy as taking her to Starbucks. He'd wanted to keep Lottie away from this very thing, and yet a seemingly harmless activity had turned sinister in half a second. He couldn't protect Lottie, not from this and probably not from anything else life threw his way. He was weak.  

"Well, well," said Matt, focusing his gaze back on Louis, "Mumsy let you take your sister out to play?" 

Lottie looked like she was about to spontaneously combust with her rage, but before she opened her mouth, Matt was speaking again.  

He was looking at Harry this time, "haven't even heard from this one since he left me high and dry in a hotel room Friday morning," he shook Louis' shoulder for emphasis, "real nice best friend he is," 

Harry wanted to say something, but Matt continued before he had a chance.  

"If I didn't know any better, I'd wonder if someone else has been monopolizing my little Louis' time," he narrowed his eyes at Harry, "bet you're getting yourself a nice grade in bio... or was it chemistry you're working on?" 

"Biology," Harry's voice sounded like he was going to snap. His jaw was still clenched and Louis had to wonder if everyone could feel the tension and the fear he felt every time Matt was in his proximity. Was it obvious to everyone else just how horrifying the boy was? 

"Right, biology. If I'm honest, I'm surprised this one even still goes to class," mused Matt, squeezing Louis' shoulder for emphasis again, "you must be something pretty special, Harry with the hair," 

"It has very little to do with me, I'm sure," argued Harry, surprisingly harsh in his words, "Louis' brilliant," 

Matt's eyes flickered with something dark as he looked back to Louis, "as riveting as this chat has been, I didn't come for the conversation," he met Louis' eyes then, "chit chatting has never been your strong suit, has it, babe?" 

"Hey," Lottie's voice held a level of rage that Louis wasn't completely used to. He couldn't let her snap, though. It wasn't safe.  

He turned his head to face her and shook his head once, "no, Lottie," 

Matt's grip on his shoulder tightened to the point where it started to hurt the bruises that hadn't quite healed. Matt gritted his teeth before he gave his signature snake-like smile to Harry, his steel blue eyes so cold they could have passed as supernatural, "such a good big brother our Louis is. Proper protective and everything, isn't he?" 

"Such a good  _person_ ," emphasized Harry.  

Louis didn't really know what was going on anymore. Harry and Matt looked a bit like two wolves, staring each other down, testing out their dominance. More than anything though, Louis felt bad about even bringing Harry anywhere near matt, because, if they were both wolves, Louis knew that Matt was the sort who wouldn't think twice about tearing Harry to shreds.  

"So good," agreed Matt, "why just a few weeks ago he broke into his mother's safe. We should probably get you a medal or honour, shouldn't we, pumpkin?" He grinned at Louis, positively eating up the fact that Louis' cheeks were flushed bright pink with his embarrassment. He turned back to Harry, "since you two are so close and you obviously know so much about little Louis, he _must_ have told you about where he was staying the week before school started," 

"Christ," it was Lottie's voice, "for someone who claimed he didn't come here to chat you've sure got a lot to say,"  

A sickness settled into Louis' gut as Matt turned around and gave Lottie the most horrifying possible glare.  

"Your little sister has enough spine for both of you," Matt told Louis.  

Everyone was silent for a moment, and Louis hated that because he knew that it was what Matt thrived on. Whenever someone gave him power, he got greedy with it. Finally, it was Matt who broke the stalemate.  

"I think we should hit that rave across town tonight. Supposed to be a real banger," he grinned at Harry, who still looked like he was going to boil over at any moment, "you're welcome to come. I'm sure Louis can show you the ropes. He's very generous when he's on E," 

Louis was going to vomit. There was no other option here. The only person in the world that he didn't want to look like a complete idiot in front of was Harry and Matt had sealed his fate there. He had to go. He had to grab Lottie, get in his car and run. He didn't want to face Harry or Matt. He didn't want to deal with any of this. He was just about to announce his departure when he heard Harry's voice.  

"I think you should go," Harry's body language was tight. His jaw was still clenched 

Matt just grinned slowly, "now, now, Harry with the hair, Louis was just about to buy me a coffee, probably gonna leave you a big tip and everything," 

"Just _go_ ," Harry's voice was harsher this time.  

"I know you're probably using Louis to get yourself some good grades, but surely you aren't actually dumb enough to think if I leave now that he won't just pick me up later," he squeezed Louis shoulder as tight as he could, "Louis and I take care of each other. You'll never have that," with that, Matt dropped his arm and leaned into Louis' ear, he said the words loud enough for Harry to hear, "I'll call you later," 

He winked once at Harry and shot Lottie a sinister smile before he walked out the door.  

It took about 10 seconds from hearing the door chime shut for Lottie to be back at his side. Harry was still watching him, and after that, there wasn't really anywhere to go, was there? The only real option here was to leave. To run, actually.  

Lottie grabbed onto his hand, "we should go," he said as her eyes met his.  

"Please don't go," Harry had already begun to pull off his apron, "at least just give me 5 minutes and I'll get out of work and come with you," his eyes were pleading when he met Louis'.  

Louis shook his head from side to side, darting his eyes anywhere but Harry, "no, I'm okay," 

He felt Harry's hand on his shoulder, resting right above the bruises Matt had just intentionally hurt, "Lou, please don't push me away,"  

Louis glanced up briefly at Harry and was met with a stubborn amount of sincerity. Louis cheeks were still flushed and if there had ever been a question before about why Harry was interested in him, it was pretty obvious after his pathetic display that it was pity that held Harry to him.  

And he hated it.  

"I should take Lottie home, it's fine," 

He didn't mean it though, and he hated himself thoroughly for lying to Harry. He didn't want to run, he wanted to be able to stay. To be able to tell Harry that Matt had been wrong. That he was better than the image that Matt had painted, but that would have been a lie. Matt had been honest—maybe more honest than Louis had been. His life was messy and full of mistakes that he probably would never be done making. He had made a big mistake that day, just by leaving his house.  

Worse than whatever it was that he was doing to Harry, yet again, he'd taken Lottie into a very questionable situation. Matt had mocked him for being _such a good big brother_ because he knew. He knew that Louis didn't have a clue what it was really like to be a brother to someone. Lottie was an acquaintance. As close as they had become in the past few weeks, there were years between them in which neither of them had acknowledged the other. Lottie wanted that to be different, and maybe it was much the same as Harry. Maybe it was guilt and pity. She probably saw the way Louis practically begged for validation from his family. The emptiness inside of him was probably exactly what she'd latched onto, and she wanted to fill him in all the places everyone else that shared their last name had forgotten to—but it wasn't that easy.  

She'd probably see that soon, probably see the danger he was to himself as well as her, and give up. People only put so much effort into something that was clearly a lost cause. Matt was harsh, but he was never wrong. He was always honest in the most brutal ways, and as much as Louis yearned for him to be wrong, he knew that he wasn't. He'd probably continue to be the disappointment he always was. Lottie would learn that, Harry would learn that, and then things would go back to how they'd always been.  

Harry looked across the counter at him with anxiety in his eyes. He looked genuinely hurt. Louis had disappointed him again. Harry held his apron in his hands with all the sadness in the world and Louis knew he needed to leave. He had to stop being the reason for Harry's negative emotions. 

...

 

Lottie was suspiciously quiet for most of the ride home. She fiddled with her phone, with the radio, basically anything that could prevent her from having to speak to her brother. Louis felt wrong. More wrong than usual. He'd stupidly hoped that Lottie would have something to say that would make him feel better, but she probably just saw what everyone else saw. She was probably just working through the newly shattered image of him that worked completely against the fictitious one she had created. Louis felt a bit sick to his stomach, and suddenly the half hour car ride seemed like a lifetime. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't know how to fix all the things that were wrong inside of him.  

But, maybe it wasn't even a matter of "how". Maybe it wasn't even possible. Maybe he was doomed to be a broken disappointment forever. It certainly felt like that.  

"You should have let him come," Lottie's words cut through all the tension in Louis body, seeping into his veins and intensifying the sickness in his stomach.  

He gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep his focus on the road and not the turmoil inside of him, "he didn't want to come, Lots," 

"You really _are_ bad at this," she sighed in annoyance, "Harry isn't stupid. He obviously knows Matt's a total wanker. You don't honestly think Harry believes that bullshit he said, do you?" 

"It wasn't bullshit," 

"Yes it was," she said the words with conviction, "it was bullshit from tiny broken boy who makes it his mission to keep you just as broken. It's complete bullshit, Louis," 

Louis swallowed hard but didn't say a word.  

"Look, I know you're used to things being shitty or whatever, but you've got a good thing going on with Harry. You shouldn't push him away," 

Lottie saw everything so plain. Everything for her was so much easier than reality. He wished he could live in a world where she was right and he was the person she wanted him to be, but Louis was cursed with harsh realities. He was doomed to be the person those harsh realities created.  

He stayed quiet for the rest of the drive home.  

 

 ...  
 

When Louis closed the door to his bedroom, he fell immediately onto his bed. His thoughts were crushing him again. It always seemed to happen like this. Never in his life had he met a person that made him react the way Harry did. It all came so easily when Louis was in his presence, but these moments, when they weren't together, turned Louis' mind to chaos. He felt doomed to be stuck in the cycle of never being enough. Of never having what it would take to keep Harry in his life. There were only so many more times Harry was going to ignore the facts. Louis didn't know how much longer they had, but he knew they had an expiry date. Maybe it would only be another couple of weeks, or maybe Harry would stick it out to the end of the semester and fade away from Louis slowly.  

Any way he looked at it though, Louis knew he had no idea what he was doing. He knew that he could only fool Harry for so long. Eventually he'd see what everyone else saw... _nothing_. He'd see the emptiness in Louis and he'd run out of things to try to fill him with. People only had so much to give. Even Harry would have his limit.  

He heard his phone chime with a text then. He really needed a break, and no one in his life seemed to be willing to grant him that. He looked at the device, lit up now, showing him 3 previous texts from Harry and one new one. He sighed, unlocking it to see what Harry had to say.  

**_Curly: Louis...._ **

**_Curly: I'm sorry. You really didn't have to leave._ **

**_Curly: please text me when you get a chance. I'm worried about you. You don't have to shut me out._ **

Louis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to work through the guilt he felt for watching Harry apologize to him. It wasn't how things were supposed to go. Louis had a million reasons to apologize to Harry and it wasn't supposed to always be the opposite. He read the most recent one then.  

**_Curly: I left work. I didn't want to stay after all that... and I'm sorry. I hope this doesn't have anything to do with last night. I was a mess and I hope that didn't make you stop wanting to see me. You told me you had problems with drugs and stuff and I know it was really selfish of me to drag you out when I was so messed up. I didn't even think about what I was doing, and I swear Louis, I honestly didn't mean to be that self centred._ **

Louis saw the three dots at the bottom of the conversation. Harry still had more to say. He didn't know how that was possible.  

**_Curly: I just... I don't know what it is about you, but you make me... different. I'm not usually a selfish person, but when it comes to you I just can't think passed what I want. I know dragging you to a party to take care of a drunken idiot was incredibly self-centred... but I wanted you there. I wanted you there when I was sober and the more drunk I got the more angry I was at Niall for making you uncomfortable and I only thought about what I wanted. Same goes for Matt. I know he's your friend and I shouldn't have been rude to him, because it's not my place... but it just made me crazy to listen to him. I'm sorry I was an ass, but, please, Louis, give me another chance. Don't be done._ **

Louis was respo ** _nding before he even thought about it._**

**_Louis: you were barely rude._ **

That was all he said. It was all he could think to say, really, because he knew it didn't make any sense for Harry to apologize. He hadn't done anything wrong. Louis had been mortified with what Matt had said. He'd been thoroughly embarrassed and beaten down. He couldn't possibly have dealt with Harry after that.  

And he'd already reasoned somewhere on the drive home that it was much safer this way. He was bound to scare Harry off at some point anyway. It was better to back away and safely lower his expectations so they could decline in a way that he was in control.  

Harry responded quickly.  

**_Curly: I can tell you just need space right now so I'll let you be. I'll see you in lab tomorrow?_ **

Louis sent a quick text promising that he wouldn't miss class and then tossed his phone across the bed. The literal rollercoaster of the last few days was definitely taking its toll on him. Friday started with Louis feeling like literal scum in the bottom of the gutter he'd woken up in and then Harry had turned it around regardless of how hard Louis had tried to bring it crashing back down with his emotional baggage. The Saturday hike he'd had with Harry followed by the visit to his flat had been quite literally the best day he could ever remember. Then Niall had brought him back down and inexplicably right back up. Louis could barely make sense of any of it.  

But there was really no down like the kind that Matt could inflict. Harry had been such a nice and well overdue break from reality for him, but Matt was once again the rude awakening that he needed. He didn't want it to be so necessary, but he knew things like he and Harry wouldn't last forever. They might as well have been from different planets. Harry would never understand the things Louis had been through and he didn't want him to. Someone as lovely and pure as Harry certainly didn't deserve to know the true cruelty of the world. Louis would gladly shoulder that reality on his own.  

He laid his head down on his pillow and drifted in and out of wakefulness for most of the day.  

   
 

... 

   
 

The problem with sleeping for most of the day, meant that Louis had spent the majority of his night staring at his ceiling, hoping to fall back to sleep. Stress-sleeping also was rendered mostly useless. He was riddled with dreams that were both odd and terrifying. Even though his total sleep time had been more than his normal amount of hours, he felt like it had essentially been nothing.  

He was exhausted when he finally got out of bed and attempted to prepare himself for his first class. He had to make it through English lecture before bio lab and while he had debated not going, the idea of being trapped in his bedroom for another second made him crazy.   

Thankfully, the lecture was interesting and served to keep his mind off of how stressed he was about facing Harry again. The only time he had to devote to overthinking about what to say was his walk from the lecture hall to the lab. Just as he started to run through all the possible situations in his head he heard Niall's loud voice from behind him.  

"Louis, mate!" He called, rushing to catch up to Louis.  

Louis slowed his pace and tried to ignore the fear that sunk into his stomach, "hey," he said just as Niall draped an arm around his shoulders. 

"Seen Harry yet?" Niall asked casually.

Louis shook his head quickly from side to side trying to decide exactly how to wanted to react to the closeness Niall had trust upon him.  

"Figures," he said, "lad was right mopey all day yesterday and said he wasn't going to his morning classes. Hope he doesn't ditch you for lab," 

Louis nodded this time, basically excelling at conversation.  

"Anyway," said Niall, steering away from talk about Harry, "why class did you just leave?" 

"English," there, now Louis was officially participating in the conversation.  

"Ah, yeah, Harry said you're a proper bookworm. Is your major English?"  

They were still approximately two minutes walk from lab, Louis figured, and they were walking kind of slow, so this was probably a conversation he wasn't going to get out of.  

"I haven't decided," 

"Well, undecided will probably still get you farther than phys ed will," said Niall with a laugh, "I'll probably wind up working the front desk at a gym," 

Louis attempted a laugh, but it got mangled in his throat and sounded more like he was choking on air.  

"You okay?" Asked Niall, eyeing Louis suspiciously.  

Louis nodded once, lying again. He wasn't okay. He didn't really know how to do this thing with Niall. Didn't know what exactly Niall even wanted of him. Was he just being nice because he thought he had to be? Probably. It was just an endless cycle of people faking it with Louis and Louis faking that he knew what he was doing. First, Harry took pity on him and now Niall was reacting out of obligation and Louis was fucking it up from all ends. The whole thing was doomed. 

"Fine," said Louis, his voice cracking on the word. There always seemed to be _something._ There was always something betraying how he really felt and he hated how transparent he was.  

"Listen, Louis," they were close enough to the classroom that Louis could actually see it, and it was both terrifying and comforting. He knew the conversation with Niall was almost done, but he also knew that he was either about to face Harry or face the fact that he was the reason Harry wasn't there. He tried to pay attention to what Niall was saying, "I meant what I said the other night. I'm over it. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable or whatever, I just figure if things are going that way with Harry and all, I'm going to be seeing a lot of you and I want us to be good," 

"Sure," said Louis, insanely aware of the arm that Niall still had draped around his shoulders. He wasn't really sure what he was doing. Everyone in the world probably knew that, though.  

"So, anyway, mate, I mean it. We're good. I don't know much about you, other than all the yammering on Harry does, but I'd like to. You seem like a solid lad," 

"Harry talks about me?" Wow. Louis had managed to say an entire sentence. Maybe he wasn't totally doomed.  

"Constantly," confirmed Niall, "surprised he has any time for anything else, if I'm honest,"  

Louis was smiling and Niall's arm was still draped around his shoulder as they entered the lab. Instantly, his eyes flickered to his and Harry's station, not sure, still, if he was hoping Harry was there or that he'd skipped. He was pretty sure it was relief he felt when he saw Harry sitting in his seat. He let out a breath that he hadn't even known he was holding in. Pretty quickly, though, he noticed the way Harry's shoulders were slumped and the way he was staring blankly at the desk. He looked devastated and Louis didn't understand it, but he hated it. He hated any sort of sadness anywhere near Harry.  

Niall squeezed Louis against his side a little bit tighter, breaking Louis from his train of thought, "anyway," he said, and Harry's eyes shot instantly to the doorway at the sound of Niall's voice, "I'll let you and Harry be, see you around, mate," 

Niall disengaged himself from Louis and walked toward his own station. Harry's eyes met Louis', and the sadness he'd seen in his posture when he'd entered the room was gone completely and replaced with a grin that could have outshined any star in the sky. Louis walked over to him quickly, drawn to the light in Harry's smile like a moth to a flame. Maybe Louis was destined to ruin their entire improbable friendship, but he couldn't help it. He was drawn to it without thought. He didn't always have time to evaluate the whole thing because he really was just a moth, and fire might have been dangerous and he might have been doomed, but he couldn't stop himself.  

"You came," Harry said, the smile still set in place, "with Niall," and for some reason, that seemed to be the thing that made Harry the happiest. Just seeing he and Niall enter a room together had lit up his face that much, and Louis didn't get it, but he wanted to savour it.  

Louis nodded, approaching his chair and taking his seat. Directly in the centre of his half of the table was a paper cup with steam escaping out of the hole. Now Louis was smiling in an impossible way. He wrapped his hands around the cup, sneaking a glance over at Harry, who was still smiling at him.  

"Thank you," said Louis, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a small sip. 

Harry bit his lip to try and rein in his smile, he nodded once, his eyes not leaving Louis'. He watched Louis for a moment before he said anything further. "Um," he started, shifting his glance away from Louis, "are we..." He trailed off, his eyes following their professor as he entered the room, he leaned in closer to Louis then, whispering softly, "are we good?" Harry's voice was tentative. Louis hated it.  

He started nodding instantly, and Harry smiled back at him, relief visibly settling into his features.  

"I got you something," Harry seemed to have recovered quickly, accepting Louis confirmation that everything was okay, and settling right back into his normal self. Louis felt relieved too.  

"Other than the tea?" Louis was smiling like a crazy person. His face was tight from the strain of it, but he couldn't wipe the grin off of his face. There was something infectious about Harry.  

"Yeah," started Harry, digging into his rucksack and pulling something out. He reached his hand toward Louis and dropped the item into Louis' hand.  

Louis looked down at it. It was a small keychain, a plastic piece with a photograph of an aerial view of the city and _Doncaster_ scrawled across the bottom in bold red font. He turned it over to see that on the other side was the same photograph with the name _Marsha_ printed across it. Louis was laughing instantly and he looked up and met Harry's eyes.  

"I found it yesterday in a random shop and I couldn't resist," grinned Harry. 

Louis was too caught up in feeling to really notice that the professor had started to speak. Here was Harry once again breaking through any expectation that Louis had of him. It never seemed to matter to him what else was going on around them. Whatever mess Louis was in didn't seem to have any control over how Harry saw him or treated him. Even though he'd been so cold to Harry yesterday, he'd still gone out of his way to think about Louis and pick up something that reminded him of Louis and that was huge. It was probably the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for Louis. The teas—those had just been the beginning. This keychain, however small and silly it was to the rest of the world was undeniably thoughtful to Louis. He couldn't do that thing he did—not anymore. He couldn't push until Harry backed off. It wasn't fair to himself or to Harry. There was something there between them, and Louis didn't understand it, but he was going to try. It was the least he could do for the boy sitting next to him with a smile that could light up a city block.  

He glanced over at Harry who was still watching him carefully, "I'm," 

"Sorry," Harry finished the thought for him, smiling a little less confidently than usual. "Me, too," he leaned in closer to Louis, whispering so he didn't interrupt their teacher, "for, like, everything. I'm sorry that you'd ever think I'd believe the shit other people say and for pushing you. Just because I want to know everything doesn't mean I should expect you to tell me," 

Louis inhaled deeply, nodding once, "and I will tell you, eventually," 

Harry smiled so wide that his eyes scrunched up and reached out to grab Louis' hand. He gave it a tight squeeze, "friends?" 

Louis chewed on his bottom lip a bit, trying to hide his own smile, "friends," he confirmed, squeezing Harry's hand back.  

 

… 

 

When Louis walked through the door of Terri's office that Tuesday, he felt lighter. Much lighter than he'd felt the Friday before. Before his weekend with Harry he'd been sure that Friday was going to crush him and that he'd made a series of horrible mistakes by choosing to continue being alive. But now, things felt okay and 'okay' was new and it was scary, but he didn't mind it.  

"You didn't email me," said Terri, standing up to greet him and close the door behind him.  

"You told me that it was in case of emergency," 

"Well, since we're always honest with each other, between you and me, I really thought there'd be an emergency. I was worried when there wasn't," 

"Because you thought I'd just skipped over the asking for help part and hurt myself," 

Terri nodded once, "I've never been so glad to be wrong," 

She reached out her arms then, beckoning him to hug her. Louis rolled his eyes at her, but took a step forward and permitted her to fold him into her arms. She held him tightly, rocking him back and forth slightly. The hug was much like the last one, but with way less desperation. This time there was nothing big and ugly threatening to drown Louis. He was at some sort of plateau. There was still so much bad in his life, enough to probably take down a normal person, but now there was good, too, and for once in his life he felt like there was a level of balance there. 

"Proud of you," she said against his hair.  

If she had have been looking at him, he would have most certainly rolled his eyes, but she wasn't looking, so he smiled. He let the compliment settle into him and let it feel warm and nice. He didn't question it. He'd been looking so forward to this day, and though, when he'd first met Terri he'd been nothing but sceptical, now he realized that she was quickly becoming one of the lights in his dark. If it hadn't been for Terri and her intuition and her fantastic ability to chip away at him, he probably never would have made it out of that hospital.  

They took their seats on the beanbag chairs and Terri was just about to launch into her question period when Louis' phone chimed with three texts one after the other. They made eye contact with each other for a long moment,  but Louis didn't say anything, and he certainly wasn't about to reach for his phone and give Terri any more reason to question him. He still wasn't sure that he was going about this whole friendship thing properly, so he wasn't willing to let the rest of the world look in on it just yet.  

"No more airplane mode, I see," one half of Terri's face was turned up in a suspicious smile. 

"I told you I turned it off," his voice held a hint of challenge and he wasn't sure why.  

"Is it Matt?" 

Louis shrugged, "doubt it," 

"Lottie?" 

Louis shrugged again. 

Terri sighed, one of her famous annoyed sighs, "sometimes you're like a brick wall," 

"Sometimes you're like a bulldozer," their whole atmosphere was different, but Louis didn't mind.  

Terri snorted a laugh, "what's his name, Louis?" 

Louis raised both of his eyebrows in surprise, "I honestly have no idea what we're even talking about right now," 

"I'm not a fool, Louis, and neither are you. I'm sure you're following along just fine," 

Louis rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He really wasn't about to make his time with Terri about something he didn't even understand. It wasn't why they got together. Louis' horribly fucked up life and lack or perspective and coping skills were what kept them together.  

"Why did I know this was exactly the answer I'd get?" She asked, and maybe it was rhetorical, but Louis answered anyway.  

"Why ask, then?" 

"Because it's kind of my job," 

"I thought your job was to keep me from killing myself," 

"I wonder sometimes if you're this sarcastic with everyone else, or if this is something you save up especially for me," 

"All for you, love," he joked, smiling back at her.  

Terri rolled her eyes and then gave him the look that told him she was ready to change the subject, "so how have things been with Lottie?" 

"I mean, aside from the fact that I'm not actually allowed to hang out with her, they've been fine," 

"Why aren't you allowed to hang out with her?" 

Louis shurgged, "I don't know. I could have something to do with my taste for illegal substances and my never ending search for self destruction," 

"Your mum said that?"  

Louis didn't answer. There was still one thing he was certain of when it came to Terri, and that was that he definitely didn't want to talk about his mum. He didn't want to address any of that and give her more reasons to pity him. Maybe a good part of Louis was open to getting better, but there was still a large part of him that wanted to keep suffering in silence. It was all he'd ever known, and as good as Terri was to him, he wasn't really willing to burden her with all of that pain.  

"I think you two are lucky, you know?" Terri said then.  

"Why is that?" 

"You have each other. Maybe everything isn't perfect at home, but she understands that. She's seen it. She understands where your pain comes from, and that must mean a lot to you, seeing as you try your hardest to never talk about it. Everyone wants to be understood, to be validated. Lottie gives you that," 

Louis stayed quiet. He liked when Terri got like this. When she took all of his feelings and gave them voices.  

"I never had that growing up," she looked at him, "I was an only child and my dad was incredibly abusive, and I was just like you. I didn't want to bother anyone with my feelings, but I didn't have a Lottie. I didn't have anyone, so I never got that validation that someone understood what I was going through," 

Louis nodded slowly, but didn't say a word. He didn't want to confirm anything about his life at home. He didn't know why, though, really. Maybe a part of him still felt like he could turn it around. Maybe one day he'd do something to make his mother see him and things would be better. They couldnt' get better, though, if he dragged her through the dirt. If he gave her more reasons, maybe she'd never forgive him. By rights, he shouldn't have cared, maybe. Maybe twenty years of anonymity to her was irreversible. It was probably stupid and childish of him to keep holding out that last bit of hope.  

"But, speaking from experience, outsiders can understand, too," Louis met her eyes and saw the knowledge burning there. There were a million things that he wasn't prepared to tell her, but he also really didn't have to because she knew most of them anyway, "That goes for me and anyone else you might meet. I get it more than you'd ever give me credit for. We're more alike than we are different, Louis, and you'll see that one day," 

Louis kept his gaze on the ceiling, not willing to get too deep into this conversation. It was getting dangerous.  

"Someday, Louis, you're going to see that its okay for things to be about you sometimes. You don't have to choose to live a life that Matt picked out for you because you think you're not enough to live for. It's okay to take care of yourself. Hell, its okay to ask someone more qualified to _help_ you take care of yourself," 

"What if it's not worth it?" His voice was tentative.  

"You're always worth it, and it doesn't matter how many times someone tells you otherwise, every single person deserves to love themselves. Everyone deserves to be happy, Louis. There's nothing lesser about you than anyone else. You have a brilliant mind and you deserve to be loved, and most of all, you deserved to be loved by _you_. It's not always easy, but you can get there. Maybe you need someone else to show you there's things in there worth loving, but you'll find those things, because I have and I've only known you a few weeks. There's a whole person in there, Louis, that you don't even see, but you will and I honestly can't wait to watch that happen," 

There was a long break of silence between them, and Terri must have known that he was on the cusp of saying something, because she waited him out. She didn't push and she didn't offer anything further, instead she leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling with him.  

Terri knew a lot of things about life and being alive that seemed completely foreign to Louis. Sometimes, he wanted to know her secrets so that he could be more like her. Other times, he was completely insecure with the knowledge that he would _never_  really be like her. He would never be a selfless civil servant who devoted his entire exitence to helping other people. He didn't even know how to help himself. He was always too lost in his own chaos to really get it.  

Finally, his words cut through the room, and he felt naked and scared as they sat there, waiting for Terri to acknowledge them, "how can I know that I can trust someone, like with everything? All that shit you ask me about. How am I supposed to lay that on someone? What happens if I'm wrong?" 

"Life will go on," she said, "I realize that it's not the most poetic answer, but it's the truth. You're going to trust someone one day, Louis, whether it's me or Lottie or whoever it is that you're asking me about, and the reality is that people will let you down, but you're used to that. I think what you're going to find harder to deal with is that some people _won't_. Some people are going to see all those things about you that you hate and they're going to love you anyway, because you're more than your mistakes. You're more than the things you've been through. You're more than your scars," 


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get (almost) pretty steamy. 
> 
> Also, I'd just like to say thank you to every single one of you who have been reading this story. Your comments are always so welcomed and appreciated. I'm just so happy that people actually care about all this stuff I pull out of my brain. I'm definitely in this one for the long-haul. There's still so much more planned, so stay with me! I had my best friend with me this weekend (haven't seen her since January--TEARS) and we hashed out a whole lot of plot for this baby. 
> 
> Also, Louis' observer article? I'm still crying D:
> 
> Love you all!

“Everything is so different now and I don’t understand any of it,” 

Louis was sitting on his bean bag chair in Terri’s office. It was Friday and he’d gotten through, essentially, the entire week without a hiccup. After his talk with Terri, he almost felt a sort of perspective, which was odd for him. As usual, he hadn’t really said much, but she’d understood enough to get him through it, and that was what counted. 

Since he and Harry had said their apologies on Monday, they’d seen each other every day that week. Louis was making a conscious effort not to push him away. Of course, with all the time they’d been spending together, they were getting closer and that was down right terrifying for Louis, but maybe Terri was right. Maybe Harry wasn’t going to let him down. It certainly felt that way when they were together. The problem, though, was when they were apart. When Louis had the chance to continuously do that thing he did where he thought himself deeper and deeper into dark places. But that was his problem, not Harry. That was alarming in and of itself. 

And then, on top of all of that, there was still the option that Terri was wrong. There was still the glaring possibility that there wasn’t ever going to be someone who stuck around through everything. Harry was brave and he was kind, but he was a human being with his own limitations. No matter how lovely things were right then, there was still the fear in the back of Louis’ mind that at some point it would be too much. There might be a time when Louis told him something that _did_ make him run and he didn’t want that to happen. He wanted Terri to be right about the whole thing.

Louis tried really hard for his own sanity not to consider those options. He was trying really hard to just savour the moment, because it didn’t really matter if things crashed and burned just yet, because Louis was enjoying it. And even if that were to be taken from him, he would have still _had_ it, and that had to count for something. 

“Because you’re different,” said Terri. 

“I don’t feel different, I just feel…lost. I don’t understand,”

“There’s something to be said for almost dying,” said Terri, “it changes a person. You’re never going to be the same boy who swallowed those pills. People in your life reacted, Lottie especially. You reacted. You fought for yourself, and its not been all sunshine and lollipops for you, Louis, but you have earned it. You have changed and its all been for the better,”

“I feel like everything _but_ me has changed. People treat me different,”

“The first day I met you, I could see how lost you were, how deep your wounds were, but its not the same now. Now they aren’t wounds—they’re scars, and there’s a big difference right there. You can still see them, those things that happened to you. You can touch them and remember the pain, but they’re not bleeding anymore. People can see you now, Louis, as a lot more than just your pain. And what’s inside of you—what’s always been there—it can shine now,”

“Have you ever considered a career as a motivational speaker?”

It was Terri’s turn to roll her eyes then, “regardless, whoever it is that you keep coming here and talking about, I promise that’s what he sees,”

Louis huffed out an annoyed sigh, and rolled his eyes, “whatever,”

They were both silent for a moment until Terri spoke. Louis kept his eyes on the ceiling, “You know, it amazes me that you expect me to know everything and still hold some of it back. You want me to tell you how you feel, but you don’t want me to keep bringing whoever you’ve met up. Why?”

“I never told you I met anyone,”

“Irrelevant, because you have. I just don’t understand why you won’t talk to me about it,”

Louis wasn’t about to say anything. He didn’t want to talk about Harry with her, and he couldn’t really explain that. He didn’t want to put pressure on things. He didn’t want her to expect anything of him. He didn’t want her to be disappointed if he ruined it. He just wanted it to _be._

Terri let out a long sigh, “at least tell me his name, Louis. Give me something,”

Louis chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, deciding whether or not he wanted to say anything, “Harry,”

Terri smiled then, like just hearing the name had cleared something up for her, and he didn’t really get it. “Are you and Harry dating?”

Louis nearly choked on his tongue as he laughed at the words she’d said, “Uh, no. We’re sort of friends,”

“Sort of?”

“He’s my lab partner. We’ve been hanging out a bit,”

Terri smiled, and something sparkled in her eyes that reminded him of Lottie when she watched him and Harry together. It was so strange to have so many people standing in his corner and hoping that he’d do something right. Harry was a great choice, he knew that. The only issue with their friendship was the question of why Harry wanted it. Louis would be a fool to let it go, but it didn’t change that he still didn’t understand it. 

“Good,”

Louis nodded once, feeling like he was pretty much ready for Terri to move on. She read him well, and her next words had nothing to do with Harry, and he was thankful for that. 

“Have you seen Matt?”

“I have,” 

“Tell me about that. Is it different to see him now?”

“I mean,” Louis inhaled. He knew this was why he was here. He was here because of the people in his life who had helped him get as fucked up as he was, and he was supposed to talk about it. Terri was supposed to be the person he did that with, but it still wasn’t easy. He still cared what she thought, “yes and no. He’s the same,”

“But you’re not,”

Louis nodded once, because he was just now beginning to realize that maybe he wasn’t the same. Maybe Terri was right and it wasn't the world that had changed. Maybe Louis was finally, against every odd that had been stacked against him, on the right track. He didn’t know how he felt about that. 

“How does Harry feel about Matt?”

Louis could feel the barriers being erected in his mind. He wanted to block this. He wanted to stop Terri from asking questions about this, because he wasn’t really ready to answer them. He wasn’t really prepared to have someone get so close to him. It was horrifying. But he fought against it, because whether he said it out loud or not, she seemed to know everything, and there was something to be said for at least having the control to be the one who said it. 

“I don’t know how he feels about Matt, but I think Matt hates Harry,”

“So they _have_ met,”

Louis gave a single nod. 

“Do you think Matt’s scared?”

“Why would he be scared?”

“Because Harry might give you the things he never did. Because he might not have control anymore,”

 

…

 

Louis was tapping the steering wheel in time to the song that was playing on the radio. That was new, too. The radio was always on in Marsha now, and it was set to the classic rock station that Harry had picked that first day. Louis was parked outside of Harry’s building, waiting for him to come down. It was Friday, and Harry had called in sick to work because he swore up and down that he would rather spend his Friday _and_ Saturday night at Louis’ house. 

Louis’ family had left Thursday night for France, and while a really big part of him was nervous beyond belief about spending all of this time with Harry, a large part of him didn’t want to be. He wanted to enjoy it and accept it for whatever it was. He liked spending time with Harry, and he didn’t want to think about the rest. 

He saw Harry come flying out of the door of his building, a smile set in it’s place as soon as he saw Louis’ car. He made a bee-line straight for Louis, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He opened the door and hopped quickly into his seat and ginned over at Louis. 

“Long time no see,” he joked. Louis’ had just seen him a few hours before in their bio lecture, “miss me?”

Louis nodded once, running his thumb over the keychain that was hanging from his car’s ignition. 

“Good,” said Harry, “missed you, too. How was English?”

Their conversations came easily these days. Harry had notably tried to steer away from anything that might get too serious. Louis appreciated that. He also, noticed, however, that Harry always seemed to try to tell his own more personal stories. Like he was trying to prove to Louis that he trusted him with his deepest thoughts, and while Louis did instinctually trust Harry, he still wasn’t quite ready to spill everything. He was grateful that Harry seemed to tread lightly these days. He was happy that Harry hadn’t taken all of the things that Matt had said and turned them into questions. Some day, he thought, he wanted to tell Harry about Terri. About how he’d met her and how he and Lottie had gotten close…but it was a lot. He was pretty sure that it was the kind of story that would either make or break their friendship. 

 

When Louis turned down the lane that his house was on, he saw Harry visibly change. He was just barely hiding a smirk as they drove past the hundred year old oak trees that were just behind kilometres of perfectly pruned bushes and gardens. 

“Just say it,” said Louis, his own smirk blooming. 

Harry grinned, turning to look at Louis, “quite a posh _lane_ you live on, Mr. Tomlinson,”

“Oh, we’re formal now, are we?”

“Well I suppose I thought I was hanging out with a regular rich boy, but you have a _lane,_ ”

“I really didn’t have you pegged for the teasing kind, Curly,”

“I didn’t have you pegged for the well groomed lane sort, Cheekbones, but I suppose we’re both full of surprises,”

Louis laughed as he pulled up to the front gates and pressed the open button that was attached to his sun visor. The gates swung open slowly and Harry’s grin grew even larger. The driveway led to the back garage and parking area. Louis pulled up in front of the house. No one else was going to be home for the weekend. It didn’t matter where he parked. Harry was looking at the house, which admittedly, even though Louis was used to it, was a bit over the top. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he joked, turning Marsha off and removing his seatbelt. 

“I’m not sure humble is the right word,” said Harry as he stepped out of the car, “you’re obviously giving me the tour. I’m gonna get a badge on my Fitbit from walking this bloody thing. How many bedrooms are there?”

Louis started walking toward the front door and Harry followed slowly behind him, “eight in the main house,”

 _“Eight in the main house,”_ mocked Harry in his best posh accent, “do you ever just listen to the things you say? I can’t believe you grew up in this palace! I’ve been to hotels that are smaller,”

“Are you about done teasing me yet?” Louis felt light and happy and those were two things that he really never felt when he was about to enter his house. 

“Not even close,” said Harry, finally catching up to Louis as he pushed the front door open. Harry wrapped an arm around Louis’ back and hugged into him, “I will say, though, if I just met you without ever hearing you were the richest boy in town, I’d never have imagined this. You’re oddly level headed for someone who had all this,”

But he didn’t really _have all this_. It was never really his. He was always more of an intruder in the whole thing. He’d never really experienced the same sort of things that his siblings had. There was no riding lessons to look back on fondly, no weekend trips to France with his mum. Louis was just a shadow in this place. None of it was really his. 

“You know, mum bought this place when I was 6, but it’s never really felt like home to me. It’s so big and so…cold. Even with all the stuff in here, its just kind of empty,”

Harry pulled him a bit tighter at the words, and it made Louis feel less awful about his honesty.  There was always a terrifying moment between when he said something that was too personal and when Harry reacted to it, and Louis hated that moment. He hated that he always felt like too much. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, you’re nothing like the house you grew up in,”

Just like usual with Harry, things shifted easily from teasing to serious and then back again. 

“Now, give me the tour, I want to get my steps in for the day,” said Harry, bumping his hip against Louis’ playfully. 

 

Louis lead him through the main house. Harry stood for a good few minutes in the kitchen, in awe of the whole thing and Louis couldn’t help but feel fond of him while he stood there and cooed over some fancy mixer he’d found on the counter. The kitchen was yet another room that Louis hadn’t ever really spent any time in. He didn’t cook, and Harry was shocked to hear that. 

“You have a kitchen like _this_ and you squander it?”

Louis was leaning against the island, smiling at Harry as he walked the room, “the kitchen is for the help, Harry,”

Harry spun around quickly, grasping his chest dramatically, “how dare you!” he said, crossing the room quickly and jabbing a finger into Louis’ side, tickling him briefly, “I’m going to cook for you, just to prove that cooking isn’t just for the help,”

 

Louis had just finished showing Harry every room on the second floor aside from his own room when Harry’s phone quacked loudly. They smirked at each other while Harry pulled it out. A grin took over his face as he looked up to Louis, “ _way to go, you’ve walked 10,000 steps,”_ Harry read the words from his screen to Louis. 

“Impressive,” said Louis softly, “and I haven’t even shown you the guest house, the pool house _or_ the stables,”

“You do _not_ have stables,”

“Of course there’s stables,” said Louis, leading Harry toward his bedroom door (which was always closed—unlike every other bedroom in the house), “where else would Lottie keep her Arabian?”

“Unreal,” said Harry with a laugh. 

Louis pulled open the door to his room then, and even though maybe he should have been nervous about it or soething, he wasn’t. Like everything else inside of this house, it didn’t feel like his. It didn’t feel like a reflection of him or a part of him. It was just the place he’d slept for the past decade and a half. It was nothing more and nothing less. 

“You can put your stuff in here, if you want,” he told Harry, who had already dropped his backpack by the front door and had made a beeline straight for the bookshelf in the back corner.

“You have a lot of books,” he noted, staring up at the tallest shelf which was at least a foot above his head, “Is this every book you’ve ever read?”

Louis nodded slowly and Harry knelt down in front of the Shakespeare shelf and ran his fingers across the spines. 

“You kept them all?” Asked Harry softly as he continued to read title after title. 

“Yeah. Some were from my Gran’s library,” 

“That’s really beautiful, Lou,” said Harry, turning back to face Louis. 

“I’ve never heard someone call hoarding tendencies beautiful,”

“I’ve never seen someone _make_ hoarding tendencies beautiful,”

Louis laughed at Harry's words, "do you want to see the pool now?"

Harry's grin grew from sweet to excited at the words, but he didn't miss the opportunity for teasing, "don't you mean 'the pool house'?"

"Laugh all you want, Curly, but you won't be when you see the water slide,"

Harry gasped, "you don't have a water slide,"

Louis shook his head grinning devilishly, "nah, there isn't a water slide,"

Harry had joined him back by the door and he shoved Louis playfully, "you guys really cheaped out, I don't know what kind of pool house doesn't even have a water slide,"

 

Louis lead Harry through the back door and toward the pool house. Harry seemed to have decided that walking with his arm linked with Louis' was the only way he wanted to walk. Louis didn't mind. The physical aspect of his time with Harry was really alarming at first, but he had come to learn pretty quickly that it was just a part of who Harry was. 

"What is that?" He said pointing to tiny house just passed the main one. 

"Oh, that's where Ernest and Doris' nanny lives,"

"Is she in there now?"

"Nah, she's gone to France, too."

"Jesus. Where does _your_ nanny live?" Louis could hear the joke in Harry's voice, and Harry leaned into him with his words. 

"Um, I'm an adult, Harry, I haven't had a nanny since I was, like, 12,"

 

 

Louis was sitting at the edge of the pool, his feet dangling into the water while he waited for Harry to get changed. He kicked the water slowly with his feet, his mind wanted to go a million different places, but he found that it wasn't. There was something about Harry's presence that made him feel at ease. There were a billion things for him to over think and even more for him to full on panic about, but he found that Harry was grounding him. He felt comfortable with Harry by him. But even more surprising was that for the first time in a long time he felt comfortable in his own house. It didn't just feel like a big, empty, lifeless place. Harry had a presence about him that made the giant ceilings feel closer and warmer. 

And it wasn't just comfort, Louis felt at home in his own home because Harry made him feel like he had a right to be there. He let him tell his story slowly and without the pressure that Terri put on him. Maybe it would take years for Harry to get the whole story, but it didn't feel like he was waiting for it. It didn't feel like he had expectations of Louis. 

Louis' trance was broken when he heard Harry shuffling next to him. Harry took his place next to Louis slowly. Their knees pressed together as Harry once again made his way into Louis' space. 

Harry reached out and softly ran his fingers across Louis forearm, "what's all this?" he asked, referring to the dozens of foolish tattoos across his skin. 

"Mistakes, mostly," he answered, realizing that this was the first time Harry had really gotten to look at him for real. He risked a glance over to Harry, who, without his shirt, was also revealing some surprising ink of his own. There was a giant butterfly in the middle of his torso. 

"I like it," said Harry, meeting Louis' eyes and smiling kindly. 

"I'm not sure I do,"

"I think," began Harry, "that it's kind of lovely how a bunch of things that look like mistakes to you can add up and make something beautiful,"

Harry tossed that word around a lot and Louis wasn't really sure why. He also wasn't really sure how Harry could look at a bunch of dumb tattoos he'd mostly gotten while he was high and call them anything but 'stupid', because that's all Louis saw when he looked at them. 

Harry glided his feet through the water wordlessly. He balled his hands up in his lap and stared into the pool. Softly, he nudged his foot against Louis and wrapped his ankle around Louis'.

"Can I ask you something?"

They had barely crossed this line since that day at the lookout. Harry had tried his very hardest to stay away from anything that got too serious. 

"Sure," said Louis, because he didn't mind right then. He was comfortable and they were really alone in his giant house and despite having all the space in the world, Harry's thigh was pressed flush against Louis' and their ankles were entwined and Louis couldn't really think of a safer place to open himself up. 

"How come you're not in France with your family?"

"I wasn't invited," 

Harry captured Louis hand and wound his fingers through Louis', "are you usually invited?"

Louis shook his head and it felt heavy, everything felt heavy, "not since I was old enough to stay behind,"

"Louis..." Harry voice just sounded like the epitome of pity and something ugly settled into Louis' stomach. 

Louis shrugged, "I'm good here,"

Harry squeezed his hand, "you'd rather settle for me than a weekend in France?"

"Doesn't feel like settling,"

Harry smiled, but there was still a noticeable cloud above him. Harry stared at their hands, which were still entwined. He squeezed Louis hand a bit tighter before he spoke, "it's definitely not my place, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but, you know that's not normal, right? Your family shouldn't leave you behind,"

Louis exhaled slowly, "I mean, I guess, recently I've started to realize that,"

Harry abruptly let go of Louis' hand and wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tightly against his body, "you deserve more,"

"But, like, when I think about it," Louis was still talking, more shockingly, though, he was still talking about this, about his family. Why did Harry make it feel like that was okay? "I mean there has to be a reason, right?"

"A reason for what?" Harry had let him go and now he was just watching Louis, his eyes full of the sadness that he always seemed to feel for Louis. 

Louis exhaled sharply, a weird sort of pain was happening in his chest, "for why it's different for me. For why my family treats me how they do."

Harry's brows furrowed and he placed his hand softly on Louis' thigh, "I doubt that reason has anything to do with you."

Louis nodded once, because Harry believed his words. Louis knew better. Harry might get it one day. He might see all the things that were wrong inside of Louis and understand why he'd been pushed aside since he was a child. 

"You never seem sad," noted Harry, his hand still on Louis' thigh. 

Louis shrugged, "honestly," be braved a glance over to Harry who looked completely hung up on what Louis was saying, "I'm not very good at feelings,"

Harry was hugging him again, "I don't think you give yourself enough credit,"

"Maybe you give me too much," argued Louis against Harry's shoulder. His arms were wrapped around Harry, because this time it wasn't just Harry hugging him. He needed it. He wanted it. He'd never been around someone who had so freely given out physical reassurance the way Harry did, but he was quick to latch onto it. 

"Bullocks," said Harry, releasing Louis again. He smiled mischievously at Louis and very suddenly slid into the pool with barely a splash. 

He resurfaced a minute later with a grin on his face and water dripping from his hair. He leaned onto his back and floated comfortably. The smile was still on his face as he looked over to Louis.

"Get in," he urged.

Louis shook his head in the negative, grinning at Harry. 

"Did your nanny not teach you how to swim?" Teased harry, as he swam back over to Louis. 

"As a matter of fact, she didn't. I taught myself," Louis didn't have a dark feeling as he told the story, because harry made things less heavy. Louis wasn't really thinking about all the nights he'd spent alone as a child in that room. No one had offered to teach him to swim like they had with the girls. Louis' childhood memories were mostly just a collection of him alone in rooms in his house. There were always people around, but never in the same place as him. The giant house was mostly always empty for him. It was probably some sort of metaphor for his life, alone in places full of people. Louis always identified with those apocalypse movies where the main character walks out into the world only to find they're the last one left. That's what he always felt. No matter where he'd gone, for most of his life, it had been just like that. Large empty rooms with too high ceilings that were filled with nothing but him and Louis didn't have much to really fill it with. 

But then he'd had Matt and some of those spaces were filled. He wasn't always the last person on earth. He could think of a thousand reasons why that had always been better than being alone, even if no one else really got it. 

He'd probably been lost in his thoughts for too long, because Harry was right by him again and his smile was softer, like he knew Louis had gotten lost. Harry had his arms resting along the edge of the pool, crossed casually. His head was resting on them and he was looking up at Louis. 

"Everything good?" His voice always quiet and honest. 

Louis nodded once. 

"Sure?"

Louis smiled this time, "honestly, I've never been so 'okay',"

Harry beamed up at him then, tugging on the bottom of Louis shorts, "then get in," he urged.

There was something sparking in Harry's eyes as he stared up at Louis, his hair pressed flat against his head and his skin shimmering in the bright lights of the pool room. He was so soft and so sweet and Louis wasn't done. He had so many more things to say to harry. 

"Hey," he said, his voice soft. 

"Hey yourself," replied harry, meeting Louis' eyes and holding the eye contact. 

"I--" started Louis.

"If you try to apologize to me, Louis, I swear to god," his grin was still soft and light, his voice fond and teasing. 

"I wanted to thank you,"

Harry used his arms to quickly pull himself out of the pool. He took his seat next to Louis again, dripping water all over him. He rested his wet head on Louis' shoulder, nuzzling into him a bit. "Thank me for what?" He asked softly. 

"For actually wanting to be here," and as the words came out of his mouth, Louis was surprised because he actually believed them. He wasn't second guessing _why_ Harry wanted to be there, he just instinctually believed that it was the truth. 

"Well you can thank yourself for that. I only came for the company,"

Louis draped his arm around Harry's back, keeping him close against him. "Can I be honest?" He was always tentative with this kind of thing, because no matter what, he always assumed there would be a point where he'd be too honest. 

"'Course," mumbled Harry against Louis collar bone. 

"I think this is the first time someone genuinely wanted to come to my house. Especially when the staff are off and there's no one to cook and clean up after you," there was a hint of a joke behind his words and he felt Harry's cheek smiling against him, "I mean, I know the pool was a big chunk of it," he heard Harry choke a quick laugh, "but, like, even after I told you about my family and everything, you still came. I don't know why you'd want to subject yourself to my dramatic household, so, thanks,"

"You want to talk about dramatic households?" Challenged Harry, "you went to mine after my roommate was a proper dick and put my drunk ass to bed, so, thank _you_ ,"

Louis squeezed Harry a bit tighter, "I mean it though, me and everything in my life... it's a lot to take on. I don't even want to do it most days,"

"I said it before and I'll say it again," Harry began, "there's no 'trying' happening here, we just fit," he hugged Louis as he said the words and Louis felt something akin to anxiety drop into his stomach. 

Harry released him then, standing up quickly and smiling wickedly at Louis. He took a quick step forward and splashed into the pool, soaking Louis completely. He resurfaced a moment later, a smile just barely hidden on his face. Louis found himself smiling in response. 

“Get in, Lou,” said Harry, swimming closer to where Louis’ feet were dangling in the water.

“Or else?” Louis’ voice was light and playful.

Harry gripped both of Louis’ ankles very suddenly and gave them a playful tug, “just get in, would you?”

Louis had a weird anxiety in his stomach and he didn’t fully understand what it was about. He was almost always anxious, but this felt different, because he was okay with Harry most of the time. He was himself, even though he rarely knew what that meant. He was open and trusting and not honestly afraid of being judged, but he felt sick, regardless. He didn’t like it. He knew deep down that he was safe here with Harry and that Harry wasn’t going to do anything to hurt him, but still the anxiety persisted. 

Harry was looking up at him still, and he didn’t know what it was about getting into the water with Harry that was so frightening, but he was resisting it. He didn’t want to make the feeling worse, and it seemed to only intensify the closer he and Harry became. His heart was hammering in his chest, and Harry still had his hand wrapped around his ankles and Louis’ skin kind of felt like it was on fire. Maybe the water would do him some good. Maybe it would give him some clarity. 

Harry tugged him then, pulling him into the water. They were both laughing at Louis gave in and slid the rest of the way into the pool. He hit the water quickly, his body rushing under the surface and falling toward the bottom of the pool. He felt his feet hit the ground and he opened his eyes. He pushed himself back to the surface as hard as his could, appearing in front of Harry with a large splash and and even larger grin. 

Harry smiled his child like smile at Louis, “hi,” he said, swimming the half a foot distance there was between them. 

“Hi,” said Louis treading water and feeling Harry’s knee brush against his. 

The water had done nothing for his clarity, because now he was just wet _and_ confused. Harry was just kind of staring at him, like he wanted to say something, or like he wanted Louis to say something. Louis had nothing to say though, and it was then that he realized how close Harry was to him. Their feet kept brushing against each other as they tried to stay afloat. Harry stayed close to him, his eyes not leaving Louis’. Harry reached out to him then, the motion more tentative than usual. Normally Harry reached out to him with confidence and normalcy like he was like this with everyone, but as his hand came closer to Louis’ face, Harry seemed unsure of his action. Eventually, though, his fingers met Louis’ forehead and he brushed Louis’ fringe from his eyes. Harry watched for a reaction carefully, but Louis didn’t understand why this moment was different. He _felt_ it, but he didn’t get it. Harry had reached out to him a million times, but for some reason there was something different in the air this time. Things were moving so much slower than usual and Louis kind of felt like he needed to be sick. Harry somehow found a way to move closer to Louis then, his hand still resting delicately where he’d brushed his fingers through Louis’ hair. 

Louis realized then with their proximity, that he was nearly pressed against the pool wall, and Harry’s body just kept closing any distance that there was between them. Their thighs brushed against each other and Harry’s hand moved to rest against Louis’ jaw. Louis was 100% no longer breathing. He kept forgetting to kick his legs and he was probably going to drown before he ever figured out what sort of weird thing was happening to Harry in that moment. Harry’s other arm reached just over Louis’ shoulder to grip the edge of the pool. The motion pulled Harry closer and their chests brushed against each other. Louis’ back hit the pool wall and he realized, then, that he was essentially sandwiched between the pool wall and Harry and things felt _weird._ Every breath that Harry took seemed significant, and Louis was hung up on how was his skin felt where Harry touched his face. Harry’s eyes were sparkling in the bright lights and his hair was dripping all over his face and across his lips and Louis recognized then how hung up he was on Harry’s lips. They weren’t smiling for once. They were parted slightly and they looked soft and pink and Louis should probably have looked away, but he was also kind of trapped, and Harry was staring at him too. 

Slowly, Harry’s thumb moved from it’s place on Louis’ jaw. He dragged the pad of his thumb slowly across Louis’ bottom lip and Louis was definitely going to get sick. His heart was hammering inside of his chest and his whole body felt like that one time as a child when he’d stick his pencil in the electrical socket. He couldn’t focus anymore on trying to stay afloat. He wasn’t kicking his legs at all, and he kept almost being pulled under the water. Instinctually, he felt his arm reach out to something solid, something that could keep him afloat. He rested the palm of his hand on Harry’s shoulder. The movement seemed to please Harry because he had a brief flicker of a smile before he leaned in closer to Louis. 

To say Louis was panicking would have been the understatement of the century. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, so he took stock of what he _did_ know. Harry’s thumb was still softly tracing his lower lip periodically. Harry’s other arm was stretched over Louis’ shoulder, holding himself above the water, and Louis, desperate for a break from treading water on his own and unfathomably gripped onto Harry’s shoulder. There was tension in every muscle in Louis’ body, but it seemed like the same thing was happening to Harry. He noted how tight Harry’s muscles were under his hand. Harry had also wound one of his ankles around Louis’ and his face was definitely a few inches closer than it had been just a second ago. 

Louis wasn’t sure how they had gotten to this strange place. He wasn’t sure what it meant and why it made him feel nauseated. He wished that he had some sort of idea how these things worked. He wished he knew how to be someone’s friend and that Harry wasn’t his first go at it because he _wanted_ to be good. He wanted to do right by Harry because if anyone deserved it, it was Harry because he’d given Louis a chance when no one else had. He’d looked right through every other preconceived notion of Louis and he’d been there for him. He’d let Louis pour out his messy heart and he’d listened and assured him that it was the world who was wrong and not Louis, and that had to mean something. He’d only known Harry a handful of weeks, but he could already say without doubt that Harry was the most important person he’d ever met. He was the only person who’d ever seen Louis for who he was and still made him feel like a proper human being. 

So, he wanted to be better at this. He wanted to understand it. He wanted to know what it meant that he was pressed against the pool wall, Harry’s hand on his face. He wanted to know where things were supposed to go from there. He wasn’t sure about any of it, though. He wasn’t sure why he felt nauseous and why his heart beat was in his throat and why Harry’s breathing was rough and why that made his chest ache in a way that wasn’t particularly _bad._

Harry pressed his lips together then, not breaking his eye contact with Louis. The whole room felt silent, and that feeling Louis had of always being the last person in the world had changed, and it kind of felt like he and Harry were the last ones. Harry’s lips pulled back in a slight smile and he tilted his head slightly to the side and leaned in close enough to Louis to brush his nose against Louis’. Louis could feel Harry’s breath across his mouth, and this definitely wasn’t normal. This wasn’t Harry’s easy casual affection. This was strange and uncharted territory. Louis didn’t get it. He didn’t understand why Harry was so close to him. He felt nervous but he wasn’t sure why. This wasn’t his normal anxiety, and even though he’d been thinking that since the moment he’d touched the water, it was only getting more frustrating for him because he couldn’t sum it up. 

Harry’s gaze was intense though, and he pushed his nose harder against Louis’ gripping his jaw tightly and breathing hard against Louis’ face. Harry closed his eyes and tilted Louis’ head, exhaling slightly before brushing his lips softly against Louis’ lips. 

And that was it. That was the moment where Louis couldn’t handle his confusion any more. He jolted then, turning his head in the opposite direction and breaking whatever tension there had been between them. He coughed slightly, trying to clear the anxiety in his gut.

Immediately, Harry dropped his hand from Louis’ jaw. He moved back, letting go of the side of the pool. Louis heart might have stopped and there was something sick and heavy that dropped into his stomach. A dark chill ran down his spine, and Harry wasn’t looking at him anymore and he felt wrong inside. He’d done something very wrong. He hadn’t even known what was happening, but he’d ruined it and he’d ruined Harry. Harry’s eyes were everywhere but him, and he swam backwards slowly and Louis felt like he was going to drown in the guilt that started to pour over him. His chest felt empty and cold and he couldn’t find his heartbeat anymore. He really wanted to run. He wanted to hide away and not face Harry. He’d have given anything to run to his room and process this guilt without Harry being there. There were tears burning his eyes but didn’t know why. He wanted to cry and there was so much emptiness and fear inside of him and he hated it. He hated it most of all because he wanted to tell Harry—but he’d done something. He couldn’t dump his feelings on Harry when Harry literally looked the most crushed he’d ever looked. That said a lot, because Louis had done stupid thing after stupid thing and he’d hurt Harry a million times, but this for some reason seemed so much worse. 

And Harry just kept backing away, and he wasn’t looking at Louis. It had only been a couple of hours since he’d picked Harry up and they were supposed to have a good weekend and Louis had already managed to fuck that up. He hated himself. He hated how fucked up he was. He hated most of all that he didn’t even know what he’d done. That was the worst part to deal with. He couldn’t even bring this to Terri and properly explain it to her so she could help him fix it. 

He’d missed out on so much in his early life that he didn’t even know how to socialize properly. He didn’t know how to do any of it and he’d never been so angry at the world a he was then. He’d just wanted to do it right with Harry. He’d just wanted to keep him there and now all he’d done was push him away. 

_And he didn’t get it._

Harry was still slowly backing away from him, he stared into the pool and Louis barely heard his voice, “I’m sorry, Louis,” he said before he dove under the water. 

He wanted to get away from Louis. 

Louis felt the tears burning his eyes then and he was going to break, because he’d broken Harry. After all the effort he’d tried to put into actually doing something right, he’d ruined it. Harry wanted to get away from him and that was devastating. 

Before the tears started he had to get away. He pulled himself quickly out of the pool and practically ran through the exit of the pool house. 

 

Louis had been sitting on the bench outside of the pool house weeping like the giant sad child he was for a solid ten minutes before he heard the door to the house close as gently as possible. This was it. He needed to pull himself together, because Harry was about to ask him for a ride home, because there was no way after all the stupidity Louis had displayed that he was going to stay. Louis knew that. He understood it. And especially awful, was the fact that instead of dealing with things like a proper adult, Louis had ran away to cry. And now Harry was going to see more of his weakness than he’d already shown. He was disgusting. 

He frantically tried to wipe away his tears before Harry got to him, but it was futile. They just kept coming harder and harder and the more he tried to catch his breath, the emptier his chest felt. He was shaking and he wanted to be better, to be _together_ but he was always a fucking mess, and now he had to face Harry.

Before Harry said a word, Louis felt him drape a towel across his shoulders. He shivered slightly at the motion, just realizing how cold he was. The early October air had a bite to it and Louis hadn’t bothered to dry himself off before he’d made his escape. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face between them, not wanting to look at Harry. Not wanting to acknowledge how wrong he’d been. 

Harry put his hand on Louis’ back tentatively and Louis heard a sob escape from his chest and felt his cheeks flame in embarrassment. Softly, Harry started to rub circles across Louis’ shoulders, and Louis didn’t get it. He didn’t understand why Harry had even bothered to come out there. He was trying to comfort Louis, but it hadn’t been him that had been wrong. It had been Louis who had misread everything because he was completely illiterate when it came to friendship. 

After Harry had settled in beside Louis while continuing to rub his back, he reached out and wrapped an arm around Louis. Slowly, he tried to pull Louis closer against him—again breaking every idea Louis had. He wanted to apologize, but the words were stuck in the back of his throat and the only thing he was able to get out was gargled sobs. Slowly, though, he felt his body relax as Harry hugged him against him. 

“I really am sorry, Lou,” Harry barely whispered, “that was really out of line and I should have asked you first,”

Asked him what first? He didn’t understand any of it. 

Harry pulled him tighter against him, wrapping the towel tighter to Louis’ skin as he shivered against Harry. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry said softly. 

Louis was still crying, and it was embarrassing, but Harry hadn’t let him go. Harry just kept mumbling comforting words and hugging him against his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry was tentative.

Louis shook his head, he couldn’t really speak. And he certainly didn’t want to ‘talk about it’, because then he’d have to admit that he wasn’t sure what had even happened. The only thing he was sure of was that he’d ruined it and that he’d hurt Harry and there was just no way that he deserved for _Harry_ to be comforting _him._

But Harry held Louis against him until the panic started to ease up. Slowly he felt air actually entering his lungs and his chest felt something other than utterly empty. Harry had such a calm about him that Louis couldn’t help but be reeled in. It was instinct. He was comfortable curled up against Harry and it didn’t make sense. It especially didn’t make sense for Harry because he should have ran while he had the chance. Louis hadn’t meant to fall apart, but something had happened in the pool and now everything felt different. Louis felt wrong and horrible and he didn’t know what Harry was doing still being there.

Louis wasn’t crying anymore, but when he tried to use his voice, it cracked with the word, “Harry?”

“Don’t you dare try to apologize to me, Louis,” Harry said and he crushed Louis tighter to him. 

“I fucked up,” he said, but he didn’t even want to try to broach the subject because he knew it was true, but he wasn’t quite sure what he’d ruined, and that made it even more horrible. 

“Hey,” said Harry, pulling back from their embrace and lifting Louis’ chin so that he had to meet his eyes. Louis felt like a mess—he always felt like a mess. He knew his eyes would be bloodshot and red and his face was soaked in tears and he wasn’t a pleasant sight. “You didn’t do anything, okay? I shouldn’t have…” he hesitated, not sure if he wanted to use the words. Louis wasn’t sure if he wanted Harry to, so he knew what was really going on, or if he hoped he’d avoid it forever, “that was too much pressure. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking and I’m going to ask next time, okay?”

It felt like Harry was dancing around some elephant in the room, but Louis felt blind, because Harry was avoiding something Louis couldn’t even see. He’d never felt so fucking _different._ But Harry was still trying to make it okay. Louis appreciated that, but he wished he could understand it. He wished that they could dance around the same elephant. He wished he had any sort of clue how to go about having a friend that didn’t just want money and sex. 

 

***

 

It had taken a lot, but Harry had somehow successfully convinced Louis that he didn’t want to leave. He wasn’t sure why he’d been so inclined to believe Harry on so many occasions, but Louis reckoned that even if Harry tried he’d never be able to pull off a lie. Everything out of his mouth was too genuine. 

That’s how they’d ended up sitting in the cinema room in the basement with some sort of rom-com that Harry had picked playing away. Louis wasn’t really playing attention to the movie. He’d been too engaged in the periodic conversation that he and Harry had been having. The movie was called _The Holiday_ and Harry had been giving a steady commentary through most of it. 

“It’s so sad that they go away for Christmas by themselves,” said Harry, who was now resting his head on Louis’ lap. Things felt comfortable again, and they hadn’t dipped into the weirdness that had plagued them in the pool house. 

Louis looked down at him and shrugged. He didn’t get it. He didn’t get why it was sad. 

“Its just, I really couldn’t imagine Christmas without Mum and Robin and Gemma. I don’t know what I’d do. We have so many little traditions,”

“Like what?” asked Louis. 

“Well, on Christmas eve, Robin takes Gemma and I skating and when we get home mum has hot cocoa made and we decorate the tree. She usually lets Gemma and I open a present each before bed,” 

Harry’s voice was so happy and fond that Louis couldn’t hide his smile in response. He wasn’t thinking about all the ways their Christmases differed. He wasn’t thinking about his own Christmases at all, up until Harry asked. 

“Do you…celebrate Christmas?” Harry had just realized the topic they were on was not one that was going to be particularly nice for Louis, but he never seemed to fear the stories Louis had to tell. 

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” Louis was trying not to crush the whole atmosphere with the truth. He didn’t mind shielding Harry from his darker realities. 

“What do you do?”

“My grandfather has a house in Spain. My family usually goes there,”

“But you don’t,” Harry wasn’t asking a question. He’d probably learned enough about Louis now to sense the delicate way he worded things. ‘My family’ never meant he was a part of it. 

Louis shook his head, “nope,”

Harry sighed, and Louis could sense the pity behind it, but Harry tried to work passed it. He grabbed Louis hand and placed it carefully on his chest, “they should invite you. Lottie would want you there,”

“We’ll see,” and Louis kind of hated himself for the little flicker of hope that happened inside of him. He hated that he wanted it to change. Everything else was so different, that for some really fucked up reason, he felt like this should be, too. He knew better than to hope that this would be the year they remembered to invite him, but he was already hoping. Maybe Lottie would change things for him. Who knew?

Harry’s gaze shifted back to the movie after that. He was quiet a long time, still holding Louis’ hand to his chest. The movie played away and Louis tried not to think about the way he’d broken down just hours ago. Tried to imagine that Harry wasn’t going to hold that against him. It hadn’t been pretty, and more pathetically, Louis had been blubbering about something that he didn’t even know. All he knew was that something had happened in the pool that first made him feel like he’d been electrocuted, suffocated and simultaneously like he’d been in cardiac arrest. 

When the credits came up, Harry was looking up at Louis again. He wound his fingers through Louis’ where they were resting on his chest. Harry seemed to favour positions like this. He always wanted the physical reassurance of their closeness, but Louis didn’t mind. He’d mostly come to expect it of him. 

“Thanks for sitting through that with me,” said Harry as he stared up at Louis, “Niall would never sit through romance movies with me. He just makes fun of me,” laughed Harry. 

“I don’t mind,” said Louis, truthfully. 

“You don’t think I’m super lame for loving romantic comedies?” Asked Harry, squeezing Louis’ hand playfully.

“‘Course I do,” joked Louis, “but I still don’t mind,”

“I’m a hopeless romantic, you know,” Harry mused, looking away from Louis then. He stared back at the television screen. “Niall always makes fun of me because my life ambitions always include getting married and having babies,”

“I thought you wanted to be a drama teacher,”

“I do, but that’s only part of it. I want things to go home to,”

Louis nodded once, because here was Harry expressing his life ambitions again, and Louis hadn’t even decided what his major was going to be.

“What about you, Lou?”

Louis didn’t really have an answer, so he opted for humour, “No, I don’t want to be a drama teacher,”

Harry tugged his hand playfully and gave a small laugh, “it’s okay if you’re not sure,”

Louis nodded again, “okay,”

“But,” said Harry, serious all of a sudden, “it’s okay, too, to have dreams. Even if they’re just for the boring stuff. I know things haven’t really come easily for you, but you can still have the things you want. You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,”

“Thanks,” said Louis, not really knowing anything more to say. Harry always spoke with more depth than he could ever muster. 

“If, it turns out you’re a hopeless romantic, too, though,” started Harry, “can I please be the first to know?”

 

Somewhere in the second movie, Harry had fallen asleep. Louis knew this because there was a wet spot on his jeans from where he’d started to drool and Harry’s body had twitched a couple of times as he fell into a deeper sleep. Louis didn’t mind it. Harry was content here with him and he would have done anything to keep it that way. He might have been completely clueless a lot of the time, but no matter how badly he was struggling through it, and how many times he’d tripped and nearly fucked it all up, Harry was still here. Best of all, Harry was still the same. He was still the kind, giving person who was more than willing to overlook all of Louis’ short comings. 

Louis reached beside him and grabbed the blanket that was there. He laid it over Harry’s body. He leaned his head back against the couch, yawning himself. He was tired too, and as shitty of a position it was that he was trapped in, he wasn’t about to wake Harry and ruin it all. He’d take the stiff neck in the morning if it meant keeping Harry comfortable. 

 

***

 

“Lou?” Harry’s voice was heavy and laced with sleep. He was sitting up, now, next to Louis, stretching his arms and yawning.

“Mmm,” was all Louis managed, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He was groggy and confused.

“You can’t be comfy,” said Harry, voice gravelly, he grabbed one of the throw pillows and rested it against the arm of the sofa, “lay down,” he instructed Louis and Louis was too tired to argue. 

He was still lost in that strange place between sleep and wakefulness and he forgot to suggest that there was at least a dozen beds they should have been sleeping in. Instead, he followed the instruction and rested his head on the pillow, his face facing into the back of the couch. Without hesitation, he felt Harry shifting behind him. There were three couches in the room, and when he was more awake he was probably going to be able to better analyze why Harry was choosing to settle in next to him. 

He felt Harry’s chest press against his back. Harry’s head rested next to his on the pillow and he nuzzled his face against the back of Louis’ neck. Without hesitation, Harry wrapped an arm around Louis’ chest, lifting Louis’ arm to fit tighter. Harry grabbed onto one of Louis’ hands and gave it a tight squeeze. 

“Goodnight, Lou,” he said against the back of Louis’ neck as he wound his ankle around one of Louis’. 

 


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only one more week until my best friend and I head to Buffalo to see Ed Sheeran and I'm super excited for that, but mostly I'm excited to spend time with her because all we do is write... Its the first time I'm going to America in my adult life, and I'm mildly excited for...like Dunkin Donuts...? 7-11?
> 
> I'll probably just miss Tim Horton's......
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Louis is blossoming.

Louis was walking next to Harry toward the back of the property. It was a bit of a hike, but Harry had wanted to see the stables and Louis didn't mind. There was something nice about walking places with Harry that was calming and grounded him. It was cool outside, and Harry had probably been right that last time they'd hiked about it being one of the last nice days. It wasn't raining, not really. It was more foggy and there was a slight mist about the hair and Harry's hair was frizzy with its dampness. 

Harry was wearing the yellow hoody that Louis had kept since the day Harry had lent it to him. He'd worn it a few times to bed (Louis was always cold) and it had gone through a wash a couple of times, and he really had meant to return it to Harry, but he kept forgetting. Harry was smiling as they walked quietly next to each other. He lifted a piece of the jumper and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply. 

"Hmm," he made a sound of contentment. 

"What?" Asked Louis, looking over to Harry to meet his happy, slightly hooded eyes. 

"Smells like you,"

Something funny settled into Louis' gut. He felt his cheeks flame a bit, because he wasn't really sure what Harry meant by that. 

"'s a good thing," said Harry, his smile genuine and peaceful. 

Louis felt good. He felt warm despite the cold mist that was coating his skin. There was something bubbling in his stomach, making him feel ill-at ease but it wasn't all bad. Even though he'd nearly made the whole thing blow up the previous night, things between he and Harry were nice. He kept feeling a lot of strange flutterings in his stomach and it was pretty unsettling most of the time, but in the same breath, he felt warm and safe. Harry made him feel a strange and unsettling amount of things all at once, but he wouldn't have changed it, even if he could have. Hopefully soon, he'd learn to navigate some of it. 

Without thinking, he reached his hand out and grabbed Harry's. Harry's hand, despite the cold air it was still warm and toasty. Harry beamed down at Louis as he carefully wound his fingers through Louis'. He squeezed Louis hand tightly and Louis swore that Harry's smile was the brightest he'd ever seen it. And it seemed like such a small thing, taking his hand. It had been easy and natural. He'd reached out without a thought because it kind of just was how they were. It was how Harry was. Harry always seemed to need to be touching and at first Louis hadn't known how to take that, but now it was a normal part of being around Harry. 

"This is nice," said Harry softly, using Louis' hand to pull them closer together. 

Louis nodded but didn't say anything, he didn't really need to. Harry was right—it was nice. 

"I'm really glad I met you," Harry's voice was soft and open and it felt like there was a lot more behind his words than he was actually saying. 

"Glad I met you too, Curly,"

And Louis meant it. He meant it a lot more than his casual words really let on. It wasn't just that he was glad he met Harry. He was glad that Harry got to exist in the same universe as him. The world had a funny way of feeling like a far less awful place with that knowledge and Louis probably would have been happy just to  _know_ that someone like Harry existed. Everything had been so bad and so dark for Louis for so long that having Harry in his life was quite literally the best thing that had ever happened to him. 

And, most surprisingly of all, Harry made him glad that he _hadn't_ died. And maybe he'd even tell him that one day. 

"When Niall first decided he was going away to school last year, I begged him to stay because I really didn't think I would make it through the last year without him. I've always had trouble, like, meeting people. Niall was always kind of my only friend so it was kind of obvious that I'd follow him wherever he went, but I was scared of that too, because I really didn't know if it was going to work out. I didn't know if I'd be able to make friends because I'm not like Niall. Everyone likes Niall. It's so easy for him and," Harry huffed a laugh, "anyway, just," he paused, giving Louis' hand a squeeze, "thank you,"

Louis heart felt strange and he had that feeling that he might be sick, but he plowed on. "For what?"

"For giving me a chance. For helping me get a grip on bio. For bringing me here. For telling me things. For driving me to work," he looked down at Louis and the sincerity burning in his eyes was heavy, "and for being you,"

The wind was blowing harder now and it whipped Harry's hair into his eyes and Louis was kind of okay with that because his next words were a lot. They were better without Harry watching him. 

"I should really be thanking you, you know," said Louis, but he continued before Harry could respond, "because, and I don't mean this sarcastically, you are quite literally the first person in my entire life to give me a chance,"

"Everyone else has missed out,"

"I'm glad you think that," and it was probably as close to accepting the words Louis could ever come. But that was okay, because Harry believed them and that definitely counted for something. 

Harry was quiet for a long moment as they rounded the back of the property and approached the stables. "Just so you know," said Harry, breaking the silence, "I know this thing with us," when Louis looked up it almost seemed like Harry's cheeks were flushed a soft pink, but it had to have been the cold because there was really no reason for Harry to be blushing, "is really different for you. And I know you're scared and you over think everything, but you're perfect. You know I think you're perfect, right?"

"Harry," Louis' voice was heavy. 

"I mean," started Harry, grinning now, "you can try to argue with me but my opinion isn't going to change, so maybe you'll just spare me?"

A small laugh bubbled from Louis' lips, "okay,"

"And just so you know," said Harry, "I'm terrified of horses," 

Louis forgot about the feeling that was plaguing him a moment before as he laughed at Harry, "why asked to see the stables, then?"

"Just wanted a nice walk with you,"

 

...

 

Later that night, after they'd finished eating the waffles Harry had made and watching two more romantic comedies, they were still awake in the cinema room. 

"Do you want to stay in the guesthouse tonight?" Louis asked softly, while he looked down at Harry who was resting his head on Louis' thigh again, "its more comfortable than a sofa,"

"Pfft," said Harry quickly, brushing off Louis suggestion, "no, I don't want to stay in the _guesthouse_. I wanna stay wherever you are,"

The previous night, they'd somehow both fallen asleep on the same couch and Louis had definitely assumed it had been a fluke. There was no way Harry had meant for it to be like that. There was no way he'd chosen a couch over a comfortable guest bed intentionally. 

Louis didn't really know what to say to that. 

"In your room?" Asked Harry 

"If you want," said Louis, and Harry was already nodding. 

 

...

 

Louis had been curled up in his bed for well over an hour, just kind of staring into the darkness. Normally, he didn't fall asleep easily, so this was nothing new. But usually he'd turn on a lamp and read until his eyes were burning and he couldn't possibly keep them opened another second. He didn't have that option tonight, though, because on the couch Harry was curled up peacefully and he didn't want to wake him. So he stayed quiet. 

Tomorrow his family would be home and he'd have to drive Harry back to his own flat and it was disappointing. It had been the first time he could remember spending such a long time with someone so quietly. Sure, he and Matt had gone on weeks long benders together, but it was always exhausting and chaotic and his time with Harry had been neither of those things. It had been nice and calm and Louis actually felt relaxed. Relaxed in his own house and comfortable and he'd never felt that. He'd always felt like he didn't belong there, but something about sharing it with Harry brought him closer to it. It wasn't just an empty giant place with ceilings that were too high and heat that never quite warmed things. Now they were walls that told the stories of the first person who'd ever treated Louis like a human being that deserved things. It amazed Louis that such a small amount of time with someone like Harry had changed so much, had changed _him_  so much. 

He was just in the midst of adjusting his pillow when he heard Harry's voice from the other side of the bed. 

"Are you awake, Lou?"

Louis turned over to see the silhouette of Harry hovering next to the bed. "Yeah," he said, voice soft. 

Harry climbed onto the bed then lifting the covers and laying on the pillow next to Louis'. Louis flipped himself over so he was facing Harry. 

"You okay?" Asked Louis. 

"Couldn't sleep," said Harry, reaching around under the covers until he found Louis hand. He wound his fingers through Louis and Louis felt himself smile in return. 

"Me neither," responded Louis. 

"I think this is better," said Harry, not really giving Louis a clue as to what he was referencing. 

Louis was still as he laid next to Harry, Harry’s hand still warm in his. He was probably even further from sleep then he’d been just a moment before Harry had joined him, but he didn’t want to move or settle himself in case he made Harry uncomfortable. He stayed ridgid next to Harry, trying to will himself to sleep. 

He felt Harry move then, rolling on to his side, “Lou?” his voice came quietly and Louis could feel it in his chest. 

“Harry?”

“Could you, um, would you roll over?”

Louis was probably making Harry feel weird, laying there facing him. He tried not to let the disappointment that fell into his chest grip him completely. Harry was still there, still wanted to be there. He’d chosen, still, to stay in the bed with him and he had no real right to be disappointed about anything. He let go of Harry’s hand, turning over slowly and facing into the consuming darkness of his room, doomed, probably to keep staring into it for hours. He gripped one of his pillows against his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending like that was enough to make him fall to sleep (he knew it wasn’t). 

Almost immediately, though, he felt Harry shifting again behind him. He bed sank in a bit, but the emptiness was soon filled with Harry as he pressed his chest against Louis’ back. The disappointment left Louis’ chest, then, instead turning into a warm and tingling feeling. Without a word, Harry slid his arm under Louis’, the same as he’d done the previous night. This time, he splayed his fingers across Louis’ chest, resting just above his less than sleepy heartbeat. 

 

…

 

It was 11:30 in the morning and Harry and Louis were laughing over cups of tea, sat on Louis’ bed and surrounded in books and two-day-old pastries they’d found in the kitchen. Harry was laughing heartily, and Louis was just laughing as a response to it. Louis had a bleak and dark heart and it was almost always impossibly easy to get lost in that, but Harry kept him above the surface. He didn’t let Louis drown in the darkness, wouldn’t let him be that self-indulgent. He constantly took the piss out of Louis and it kind of worked somehow. 

“I can’t _believe_ this guy is your favourite,” said Harry, his eyes glittering with his teasing.

“You just don’t understand Bukowski’s subtleties,” 

Harry honked a small laugh, “he refers to the woman he loved as ‘ _that whore with the_ _heart of brass’_ , I’m not even sure he _has_ subtleties,” 

Louis smiled over at Harry, picking up his copy of the poetry they were flipping to and pointing the the highlighted parts, “that’s the point, Harold, Bukowski is a right dick, but he’s full of bitter insightfulness. He’s crass, but there’s depth there,”

“Forgive me if I can’t take a poem with the word ‘whore’ in it seriously,”

Louis met Harry’s smiling eyes then and smiled back, “fine. Moving along,” Louis’ voice was so light, so calm and he almost sounded like he was singing, even to himself and it was strange. He couldn’t tell if he felt completely unlike himself or more like himself than he’d ever previously felt, “this one is…” Louis sighed, because this was it. This was the poem that he felt more than any of the other maybe thousands he’d read in his life, he furiously flipped through the pages until he got to the one he was looking for, “it’s my very favourite,” he said as he turned the book around and handed it to Harry. It felt significant, somehow, handing the book over to Harry with the poem _Burning In Hell_ opened up and highlighted with his thoughts and reflections scribbled in the margins. 

Harry took the book from him, then, his eyes flitting quickly across the page. He lost his smile part of the way through the poem and his eyes weren’t glittering with the same joy anymore. Bukowski was to be taken seriously, so Louis could hardly hold it against him, but he still felt somewhat responsible. 

Harry’s eyes seemed to flick across the page multiple times before he finally looked up to Louis, pressing the words against his chest. His eyes looked hard and heavy and there was a worried crease between his brows. Softly, he spoke. 

“Louis, this is beautiful, but it’s so _sad,_ ” he emphasized the word. 

“Well, poetry doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being joyful,” Louis was trying to joke, trying to bring back the Harry he’d seen just moments ago, but Harry seemed stuck on his emotion. 

“I mean,” huffed Harry, clutching the book tighter to his chest, “I _get_ it. I get the whole thing, but I think the worst part is that I get why it’s your favourite,”

Louis desperately wanted two drastically different things. He wanted so, _so_ badly to be back to the place they’d been moments before. They’d been sipping tea and teasing each other over slightly stale pastries and flushed cheeks. It had been so perfect, waking up with Harry, brushing his teeth next to Harry in his bathroom and settling in with his books scattered between them. 

But, there was also this. There was the desperate need to have _someone_ out there in the world peer inside of him and not run scared. He wanted to take this, cherish this and pour so much more out onto the bed in between them. He wanted to fill Harry with all of his secrets and all of his inadequacies and he didn’t really get why that felt okay. 

“Do you?” he challenged, daring to meet Harry’s eyes. 

Harry pulled the book away from his chest, looking back down at the words, “ _this piece of me fits in nowhere, as other people find things to do with their time, places to go with one another, things to say to each other; I am burning in hell,”_

Louis nodded once, not really knowing what else to do with the expression on Harry’s face. He didn’t look scared, he just looked _wounded_ and maybe the poem had cut him as deeply as it had for Louis all these years. 

“ _My heart is a thousand years old; I am not like other people,”_ Louis said softly, just as he felt Harry place a light hand on his knee. 

“Louis,” his voice was shaky and his eyes were full of ten thousand emotions that Louis didn’t always understand, but he wanted to. “I…I want to say you _are_ like other people—but you’re not. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t have to be tragic. I want to be able to say something to you to make it so you don’t understand his poetry so well, but I can’t do that and it…it really makes me feel like shit,”

Louis was breathing heavily, because despite the fact that Harry might have wanted him to be, he wasn’t done. “I haven’t had a friend my entire life, you know that, right? I mean, there’s Matt, but he just wants money…and, I don’t really have a family either, so you’re kind of the first person I’ve ever just gotten to, like, _be_ with. I know…when I get like this, its not really fun or flattering, but there’s just a lot of that inside of me,”

“Lou,” started Harry, on the verge of a speech, “I don’t mind that. I want you to be able to get it out, because I suspect you’ve never really gotten to and that’s not fair, because you have so, so much inside of you and I don’t care what it is, I want to see it. All of it. Things don’t have to stay one way just because that’s how they’ve always been. Just because there hasn’t been a place to let it out before doesn’t mean it will stay like that, Louis, because, like, I’m here. I’m in it,”

“But, I can’t…” Louis took a sharp inhale, trying to line up his thoughts, “I don’t think I could ever explain to you what it feels like to really be alone. Like, the poems help…but,” he met Harry’s eyes, “I don’t know if anyone could understand what its _really_ like to always be surrounded by people and still be so alone. To watch a half dozen other kids in the same place as you get all the attention you never got…to just have things thrown at you so you’d stay quiet so they could just keep _not_ giving you that attention. To stand right in front of the people who are supposed to love you and just…have them see right through you. Like you’re not even there,” Louis’ face was flushed because he hadn’t really given himself permission to go there. He hadn’t decided that this was the place he wanted his perfect weekend with Harry to end. Being pathetic wasn’t charming or alluring in any way, and why he wanted to dump this on Harry and risk losing whatever they had was really beyond him. He had no clue what he was doing, and this thing he was doing—exposing his wounds—it was no different. 

Instantly, Harry pushed away the books and pastries between them and sidled up next to him, tucking Louis into his side, “there’s nothing I can ever say to make any of that better,” he squeezed Louis tighter to him, “and, believe me, if there was, I’d say it,” Louis was nodding then, the top of his head brushing against Harry’s chin, “but, Louis, its not your fault, and I know that doesn’t change it, but it shouldn’t have happened like this. Your family…well, they’re yours and its really not my place to speak on it, but, they’re so fucking wrong, Louis. You’re worth it. You’re worth everything and you have so much inside of you and I want to see it all. I want to make up for all of it,”

Louis was smiling then, because he was still bad at feelings. He knew he should have been swept up in some sort of tidal wave of emotions because he’d told Harry even more tortured stories about his childhood, but the truth was that it barely hurt anymore. Louis reckoned that he could only have stewed in the same pain for so long before he became immune to it. It didn’t have the same bite to it anymore, it was just something he was used to living with and he rarely got lost in it anymore. Mostly, he just got lost in numbness—but even that was harder to come by now because he was navigating so many new things that didn’t feel negative or lonely. It had taken him twenty years just to get to this point—to vocalize that he _did_ feel lonely. That it was his dominant emotion, and he couldn’t believe that it was Harry who had brought him here. He hadn’t even gotten close to those words with Terri and she was supposed to be the one who was going to fix him. 

“I know that was a lot,” whispered Louis into Harry’s sweatshirt (and yeah, it did kind of still smell more like him than Harry, and that made Louis miss Harry’s smell), “I haven’t ever had someone to say those things to before, so thanks,”

“You don’t have to thank me, Louis,” explained Harry, “I just want you to know, because I know you get confused about things a lot, but I want to make you feel good. It’s not the only reason I’m here, though,” his voice was soft, “I’m here because you make _me_ feel good. I don’t want to, like fix you or something stupid like that, because there’s nothing wrong with you, and I just think you need to hear that,”

Louis chest felt like it was going to burst and he, once again, wasn’t sure if that was because he whole-heartedly believed that Harry was wrong (because he had to be, because there was something inherently wrong with Louis—there was no other explanation for the way he’d been pushed aside his whole life), or if it was because he recognized that Harry whole-heartedly believed he was _right_. Either way, the feeling was a lot and it had him wrapping his arms around Harry and pressing that little bit closer to him. Harry was a kind of sanctuary for him now, and he’d never even known that someone could mean that much to him. He hadn’t even known that he’d _wanted_ someone to mean that much to him. 

He was just about to say something else when the sound of two dogs barking and tearing through the halls flooded the house. Suddenly, Louis was transported back to that place he was used to as his family poured back into the house. They were loud and Dan and Félicité were arguing about something and one of the twins was crying. They were so loud and obnoxious and so obviously a family that Louis felt something awful sink into his gut. Sharing his house with Harry when they’d been alone was one thing, but now that it was full again, Louis just felt that nagging loneliness, even despite the positive memories he and Harry had begun to make there. 

Almost instantly once the chaos whipped through the house like a tornado, Louis’ bedroom door flew open. Lottie barrelled in, her backpack still slung across her shoulder and she was using a knee to hold back one of the dogs as she tried to shut the door behind her. 

“Louis!” her voice held exhaustion behind it, as she glared at the door and the chaos she was attempting to seal out. She hadn’t turned yet, and Louis briefly contemplated taking the time to disengage himself from Harry, but he also really didn’t want to, and he didn’t want to risk making Harry believe he wanted to. 

Lottie turned then, about to babble about something, but her words caught in her throat as she choked out a laugh, “oh, _Harry_ , hi,” she met Louis’ eyes then, glee sparkling in them, “I wasn’t expecting you to be here. Sorry,” she didn’t stop with that, “I didn’t realize I was interrupting a reading/picnic/cuddle session,” her grin was impossibly large, “I can go,” she said, adjusting her rucksack and waiting for Louis is argue. 

“It’s okay,” said Harry politely, “you’re welcome to join, the pastries aren’t fresh and Bukowski’s a bit of a tit, but have a seat,”

Lottie grinned widely, flinging her bag onto the floor and climbing carefully onto the bed, trying to avoid the pastries and books as she grinned at Louis, “so how was your weekend?” she was addressing them both, daring her brother to react. 

“Brilliant,” said Harry, rubbing his arm up and down Louis’ affectionately. 

“Well, fancy that,” said Lottie, narrowing her eyes at Louis, “you and Harry had a brilliant weekend together,”

 

…

 

Something had happened to Louis. He couldn’t really put his finger on it, but something was really different. He felt it everywhere. He felt it in the way he walked when he was next to Harry. He felt it in the way that other people looked at him. He felt it when he saw the pride glittering in Terri’s eyes when she mentioned the change. It was nearing the end of October and it had been nearly two months since the day he’d landed himself in the mental hospital with a bottle of some lady’s pills, and if Louis had the ability to take the boy he’d been and put him face to face with the one he was now, he knew there wouldn’t even be a slight flicker or recognition there—because he was, in a word, unrecognizable.

It wasn’t a complete 180 degrees from where he’d been, but even the slightest shift felt huge. Harry had a lot to do with it, and when he walked the halls of their university alone, he still felt his previous anxiety. He still felt it when he tried to silently descend the stairs at his house every Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday at 9:28 pm (9:28 was the perfect time to leave to pick Harry up after his shift ended at 10:00 because he almost always walked out at exactly 10:13). Louis wasn’t _fixed_ was the thing. He wasn’t sure he was ever really going to be, because he’d never get to un-live his past. He’d never get to have a real childhood, and it was something he and Harry touched on a lot, but Harry was helping. He was helping a lot. And sometimes it was in intensely profound ways, but sometimes it was just the days when he swore to take Louis through all of the adventures he should have had as a child. Harry had taken him to museums, to art galleries, had sat in the children’s section of the library and read him all of his favourite books from his youth and laughed as Louis laughed. It had been perfect. He and Harry had discovered each other so naturally and easily and it helped. Harry was trying to build all of the memories he had of his own childhood for Louis and the gesture was more than kind—it was selfless and Harry’s ability to care for Louis seemed boundless. 

They still had their dark moments, the ones where Louis delved into his past and Harry listened like the kind soul he was. But there were so many better moments. One of the things that Harry insisted he create in lieu of Louis’ youth was that he needed to document the whole thing. Every time he took Louis places (like the science centre or the playground, where he insisted on pushing Louis on the swing) he took photos. He’d created a private Instagram account that only he and Harry could see, and it was a collage of all the moments they’d had together and it was always growing and it made Louis feel a weird sense of hope. It was a longing that he wasn’t really used to. Maybe it was anticipation. He wanted things—things in the future. He didn’t just hope that one day the earth would open up and swallow him and save him from living in his constant misery like he he’d always done before. He kind of, almost, felt like he might have a place in the world some day. 

Terri thought that maybe he could be a teacher some day. She said that he was exactly the sort of person who could spark passion in even the most bored and unaffected teenaged brains. _An English teacher_ she said, insisting that Louis’ eyes always sparkled the most when he was trying to explain some sort of complex story line to her. Maybe she was right. Terri was usually right about a lot of things, and Harry wanted to be a teacher. There was something noble about it, so Louis had done something he never thought he’d do so early into this whole recovery thing—he’d declared his major. English. 

Maybe one day he’d be like Harry. Maybe one day he could teach even one other person that the world wasn’t just an endless loop of awful things. There was hope and there was people who could teach you how to hope. 

Harry was hope for Louis and he’d never be able to really sum that up in a collection of words. So he didn’t really _tell_ him. He just worked furiously in his mind to try to find a way to sum it up. 

 

But, even with the good came the bad. Louis’ past was still there. It was infrequent and it usually visited him late at night when he was driving home from Harry’s flat listening to the David Bowie CD Harry had left in Marsha (and yeah, Harry still carried around CDs—he was a strange duck). The past was usually leaning against the gates of the property, waiting to prey on Louis when he was alone. He still saw Matt—maybe more than he should have. It was almost always a mistake, though, and Louis saw it. 

But, what he also saw were all the parts of Matt that were still broken in the same ways that Louis was still broken. Matt didn’t have a Harry, though, and try as he might, Louis was a terrible stand-in. He was nothing like Harry and he had no idea how to maneuver around the emotional outbursts he experienced while trapped in Matt’s hurricane. 

It seemed, in all the ways that Louis was changing, maybe healing (?), Maybe growing (??), Matt was breaking further. He was changing, too, and it was a terrifying sight to behold. Once a simply casual party animal with a taste for illicit substances, Matt had transformed himself into an angry, broken and relentless addict. He didn’t _want_ to be high anymore—in his eyes there was no other choice. And it scared Louis, but the thought of Matt alone on a street corner with a syringe hanging out of his lifeless arm terrified him more. So he wasn’t giving up on him. Admittedly, handing him petty cash and driving him to his next heat-score wasn’t helping things. Sitting together in hotel rooms while Matt cried about all the unkind men who had hurt him in the foster system (because, now Matt talked, too. A lot. And most of it gave Louis nightmares) and then letting Matt fuck into him while lost wildly in his self hatred, wasn’t helping either of them…Louis still felt powerless. 

Powerless and ashamed because there were so many people in his life now that cared and that wanted more for him. He didn’t know if he could survive Harry having knowledge about his and Matt’s nights together. He felt disgusting and pathetic and he knew, knew, _knew_ that he needed to stop this cycle. That he needed to stop Matt’s spiral because it was his fault. They’d existed for years on the surface together, and now that Louis had changed, Matt had fallen through the cracks. He’d been broken and hurt in a system that had never had his best interests at heart, and then the one person who was supposed to care for him had changed. He detached and left him to fend for himself, but Matt had never really learned how to take care of himself.  

 

All of these things, they were the reasons why Louis was still hovering in a strange place between being Louis Tomlinson, sidekick to the drug addled foster kid, and _Lou_ , the softer, kinder and more balanced version of himself who stayed up late reading poetry to Harry while he drifted off to sleep. They were the reasons why, while he was parked outside of Harry’s Starbucks (it was 10:09) and pressing the answer button on his hands-free system for a caller ID he knew belonged to Matt. He was literally stuck in two different worlds at once, and he really didn’t know how to make a choice. He didn’t know if he _could_ make a choice, really. 

He didn’t say anything as the sound of wind rushed against Matt’s mouthpiece and filled the car with a loud whoosh of sound where neither of them knew how to put words. Eventually, though, this new version of Matt said something. 

_“Louis?”_

Louis swallowed, but his throat felt like it was closing in, “‘m here,”

There was just the sound of wind again, and Louis watched as the clock on his dash turned to 10:11 and he knew Harry was coming soon. He’d do well to keep the two parts of himself separate, but they always seemed to crash together in the least opportune moments. 

 _“I’m in London,”_ Matt’s voice was cracking, like he’d smoked too many cigarettes in rapid succession, but Louis listened for more. Again just the sound of wind filled the car. Louis rolled down his window, letting the cold air rush in and blow away some of the thick emotions that were creeping up inside of him. 

 _“I need to get home. I don’t have any money and there’s this guy,”_ Matt sounded like he was six inches tall, and Louis felt sick to his stomach. Louis heard the familiar click of Harry’s boots against the sidewalk, and he looked at the dash. 10:12, Harry was right on time. 

“I can’t pick you up, I have a paper due in English tomorrow,” but Louis felt rotten as he said the words because he could hear it now, maybe it wasn’t the cigarettes that had broken Matt’s voice. Maybe it was something else. He was crying. Covering the microphone as he sniffed, but Louis still heard it. Harry peered through the windshield then and Louis really couldn’t decide if he was relieved or stressed that he was there now. Now, Louis would have to be strong, just to prove to Harry that Matt didn’t control him like that any more. Now he’d have to leave Matt locked in whatever mess he was in without a lifeline and that felt horrible. There wasn’t really a right way to do this. Harry’s brow creased as he looked in the car at Louis’ hardened expression. 

“ _Just this one time,”_ Matt begged, the wind kicking up against the microphone, “ _it’s really bad,”_ this time he slipped up and sniffled as Harry softly opened the door and climbed into Marsha. 

Harry looked over to Louis then, not saying a word, just listening to the wind as it swirled on Matt’s end of the line. 

“I can’t,” Louis voice was tight. 

This time, it wasn’t a sniffle, it was a soft sob that broke from Matt’s throat, “ _you never can,”_ he paused only for a minute and Louis dared a glance over at Harry. Harry’s eyes were soft and his glance unassuming as he sat quietly, listening for Louis’ or Matt’s next words. 

“ _Why?”_ Matt’s voice was strangled and there was shouting around him. He was probably at a party. 

“I told you, I just, I have a paper— _”_

_“But I’m scared, Louis, I can’t be here. I need you and you’re never there,”_

Louis didn’t refute his words. He wasn’t ever there. He was always other places, and while those other places felt like sanctuary a lot of the time, they were laced with the knowledge that he was abandoning the one person who had literally been abandoned by every person he’d ever trusted. 

Harry reached out and put his hand over Louis where it sat on the gearshift. Louis couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“I can email you some money. You can take the train,”

For a brief moment Louis was met with only the sound of the heavy London winds, but then he heard the two beeps signalling the end of the call. Matt had hung up on him and it felt oddly final. The music kicked back in then and _ground control to Major Tom, commencing count down, engines on…_ rang out loudly before Harry reached out and silenced it. He tried to catch Louis’ gaze, but Louis needed a minute. He couldn’t quite look at him just yet. 

“Are you okay?” Louis could feel the falseness behind the question, because Harry knew that he wasn’t, but he always treaded lightly around anything involving Matt, always insisting it wasn’t ‘his place’.

“Define okay,” deadpanned Louis. 

“Are you so ‘not okay’ that I can’t fix it with a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs?” There was a smile behind Harry’s words, and they were just what Louis needed, a welcomed distraction that cleared his mind more than the almost-November air that was still whooshing through Marsha. “They’re homemade,” Harry tacked on for good measure, because of course they were homemade. Harry was a proper Gordon Ramsay. Well, maybe a proper Jamie Oliver because he was definitely too nice to be Ramsay. 

“It’s going to be half ten by the time we get to your flat,” he was smiling though, “who on earth serves a full spread that late?”

“Me,” beamed Harry, relaxing into his seat now, seeing that he’d finally pulled Louis (once again) from the darkness. “Besides, it’s Friday and Niall has people over and I promised I’d make dinner. I’d really like it if you’d come up,”

Louis tried as hard as he could to never say ‘no’ to Harry because things always seemed to work better when he ignored his instincts. But, one thing he’d held strong to was avoiding Harry’s other friends. He and Niall were civil now, and they saw a bit of each other and walked to class some, but it still felt strained, like Louis still didn’t quite fit into the rest of Harry’s life. He had done well minimizing his time around Niall up until then, and he wasn’t really sure he could continue the trend without offending both Niall and Harry. When it came to the others, though, Liam and Zayn (whom he’d met several times in passing but had never subjected himself to significant conversation with), it seemed like a lot more. It had taken Louis twenty years to find _one_ person who liked him. He wasn’t about to place bets on the idea any of the other three would feel the same as Harry (Harry was a strange duck after all). 

But, he had this thing inside of him. This unrelenting urge to never (ever, _ever_ ) let Harry down. He didn’t know how to casually brush off this offer. 

“Come on,” said Harry, “Niall wants you to hang around more. He think you’d get on if you gave him a chance,” 

Louis rolled his eyes dramatically, “fine. But there better be garlic bread,”

Harry grinned, nodding excitedly, “of course!” he exclaimed, “baked the bread this morning before class,” because, of course he had. 

 

…

 

Louis was only a mild amount of unsettled as he sat with his legs crossed on the couch in Harry and Niall’s living room. When he’d first gotten there, Harry had graciously sat next to him while he got settled, but Liam and Niall had started to complain that they’d ‘starved the whole fucking day for his bloody pasta’, so Harry had slipped away to the kitchen. Louis was an adult now, and he was pretty good at socializing now-a-days. So he was still sat on the couch, Zayn at the opposite end and Niall and Liam on respective chairs, and he was resisting the urge to beg Harry to let him help (even though he was completely useless in the kitchen). 

“So, do you have your own flat?” Liam was the most politely social of the bunch, trying to include Louis in the conversation. 

Louis shook his head, “I live at home.”

“Louis has a Mercedes,” announced Niall, not really bothering to follow the flow of conversation. From what Louis knew about him, he seemed to do that a lot. He seemed to be full of boisterous energy that he, of all people, had no ability to contain. 

“Her name’s Marsha,” Harry called from his place at the stove. 

“Interesting,” said Zayn, not bothering to look up from his cellphone. He always seemed kind of bored. He was an art student, but Louis suspected that he was missing his true calling. He had the features of a super model and a permanent scowl on his face that just made him all the more attractive. His skin was a deep caramel and his charcoal hair was always a mess on the top of his head. Sometimes, in lab, he wore glasses, but Louis had pretty much decided he wore them for the sole purpose of looking more serious. “Never heard of a car with a name _and_ a gender,”

“I suspect the name and gender are Harry’s doing,” said Niall, mirth shimmering in his bright blue eyes. 

Louis nodded, a small smile on his lips. 

“Brilliant,” said Liam, “Harry’s just as mad as ever,”

“I’m not mad,” argued Harry, “I see things other people don’t see. I saw Marsha’s soul,”

“Does Marsha’s soul have anything to do with her gorgeous red leather interior or is it just mostly the gorgeous blue-eyed lad that drives her?” teased Niall, winking once at Louis. 

“Uh-hm, excuse me, _Niall,”_ started Harry, “but one’s soul has nothing to do with physical characteristics. Louis is the driver of Marsha’s soul, but she exists independently of him,”

“Christ and we haven’t even opened the wine yet,” moaned Zayn then, looking up from his phone to catch Louis’ eye. “Is he always like this with you around?”

“Always like what, _profound?”_ asked Harry quickly, rushing to fill his own question with a response, “I’m just being foolish Zayn. Keep up,”

Louis wasn’t really saying much, but he had to admit that listening to the other lads banter was kind of refreshing. Niall’s spirit had already started to wear him down from their previous interactions. He was almost getting used to him now, and he didn’t avoid seeing him, so they were basically as far as Louis imagined they’d get. When he’d first entered the flat and met Liam’s puppy-dog brown eyes, he’d been nervous. Liam was hard to read because he was too polite. Louis didn’t imagine he ever told people how he really felt. Zayn…well Zayn was intimidating in his own right. He was the physical embodiment of dark and mysterious. His long lashes cast shadows down his cheeks and made it impossibly hard for Louis to see what was really happening in in expressions. Zayn was harder to read than Liam. Zayn was the scariest. He was deep and secure and he wasn’t looking for Louis’ approval in any way, shape or form, and that was hard because Louis was looking for his approval in every sense of the word. He was Harry’s mate and Louis wanted to fit in here. 

He didn’t imagine he would, though, because he didn’t really fit into most places. 

 

 

Later that night, as they all sipped the last mouthfuls of the red wine Zayn had found in the back of the cupboard, Harry leaned his head happily against Louis’ shoulder. They were all still sat around the kitchen table, Liam and Niall arguing over the last piece of bread. Harry sighed contentedly against Louis’ shoulder, and Louis kind of felt okay. Maybe it was just the red wine, but he did’t feel like a total outcast sitting at that table with Harry’s three mates. It felt okay, and Louis could probably live through doing it again. 

“I need a smoke,” announced Zayn to no one in particular. 

Harry watched as Zayn made his way to the balcony. Niall and Liam were engaged in some very serious talk about some footie game that had happened the previous weekend, “Zayn is having a major emotional crisis,” Harry said softly. 

“Oh?” Zayn had seemed so perfectly disinterested and composed. Louis hadn’t noticed any sort of emotion at all, let alone the opportunity for crisis. 

“Yeah, but he won’t talk to me about it,” whined Harry, lifting his head off of Louis’ shoulder. He stretched his arms over his head and cracked his knuckles, “maybe he’d talk to you, though—you’re unbiased,”

“You want me to follow him?”

Harry smiled, nodding once, “he just needs to get it out. Go smoke with him,”

Louis always wanted to do the things Harry suggested because he was normally right. But there was something strange about going out on the balcony with the sole purpose of trying to get the quiet and beautiful stranger to spill his guts. He had his art, isn’t that usually where artists spilled their guts? 

But, who was he kidding? Louis was going to take Harry’s advice. He was obviously going to follow Zayn out there, despite the fear the licked at the edges of his stomach. 

 

Louis slid open the balcony door, stepping into the cool air and feeling a little more grounded because of it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of smokes (Louis didn’t smoke that much anymore—only when the situation called for it). He put one between his lips and looked over to Zayn who was smoking his cigarette like he was applying to be the spokes person for a tobacco company. The tip of his cigarette was tinged pick, his lips still painted from the red wine. He seemed edgy, and maybe Harry was right. Louis brought his lighter to the end of the cigarette and inhaled, almost coughing because it had been longer than he remembered since he’d last smoked. 

They didn’t speak—not as Zayn devoured his first cigarette and a Louis slowly burned through his own. Zayn lit another. He stared out at the city lights and exhaled his first drag slowly, “The world’s fucked, you know?” 

Oh, Harry _was_ right. There was something about the intimacy of sharing polluted air with a stranger after a couple of glasses of wine that made talking easier. Apparently that even applied to even-tempered artist/models. 

“Oh?” said Louis. 

“Yeah, its fucked, because like,” he sucked hard on his cigarette then, “you have all these people. All these fucking trivial people who want to kiss your ass, to warship the ground you walk on, who just want to, like, fuck you all the time you know?” and no, Louis didn’t know. It was probably only something that people who looked how every A-list celebrity wished they looked, understood. He let Zayn continue, though, “and then, like, you meet this person and,” he sighed, flicking the rest of his cigarette off the balcony and turning to Louis, “its like you don’t even exist,”

He ran his hand through his hair, dishevelling it more and still looking like a cigarette ad, despite the fact that he was no longer smoking. Boldly, he reached out and took the cigarette from Louis’ hand. He took another long drag. When his voice came back again, it was thick with his emotion, his pain. 

“Its like…you’re there. You’d do anything for him, and you’re best mates and he doesn’t even have a fucking clue. It’s like…you wasted all the love you were going to get on all those fucking twats that threw themselves at you. Like now God’s punishing you because you didn’t care then. Like he just dropped this perfect fucking person in your lap and said, ‘ha-ha, you can’t have this’.” Zayn exhaled into the cold air again, handing the smoke back to Louis who shook his head. Zayn shrugged and hollowed his cheeks while he sucked in another mouthful of tobacco and tar, “I don’t even believe in god, honestly, I just think the universe or whatever is fucking with me because I can’t have the one fucking person I want. It’s just…I’m a mess over it. And he just sits there, you know? Sipping his wine and laughing at my sarcasm, but he doesn’t even _see_ it. I’m so fucking gone for him and his stupid polite bullshit that he always drabbles on with and his fucking words, they’re too fast you know? Like he forgets to breathe and he just goes on and on and his fucking flannel shirts! I hate them, you know,”

Oh, shit. Was Zayn talking about _Liam?_  

“And he does this thing, this impression where he pretends to be that fucking scumbag Borat. Like its the world’s most distasteful movie and it's totally fucking racist, and I think he's just too dumb to realize that. And his fucking _tattoos_! Like he has a fucking bunch of arrows on his arm. Like a goddam airport landing strip or something and, just,” he sucked in the last bit of Louis’ cigarette and flung it over the balcony, “I just think someone is fucking with me, because if I can’t have him, and all his stupid things, I can’t really have _anyone_ , can I?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wondered, Bukowski was (is) one of my favourite poets and the poem that is referenced here is Burning In Hell and its bloody amazing. Totally worth a read. 
> 
> http://henrycharlesbukowski.tumblr.com/post/10233665094/burning-in-hell-this-piece-of-me-fits-in-nowhere
> 
> As always, thanks for reading <3


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently long weekends are just what I needed. Two chapters in 3 days. Woo. 
> 
> This is a high drama chapter. Louis hits cloud nine and rock bottom.

Louis was still laying in Harry’s bed. He definitely could have gone home the previous night, he’d only had two glasses of wine and he’d driven countless times under far worse circumstances, but Harry had insisted. They had some kind of weird harmony now when it came to sleeping arrangements. When they’d been at Louis’ house, it had seemed strange that with dozens of beds that Harry kept choosing to lay in Louis’, but at Harry’s it made sense. There wasn’t a whole lot of sleeping options, especially when Zayn had taken the couch. 

Now, though, it was half nine and Harry had been awake for hours. He had been poking at Louis and giggling lightly as he scrolled through his Facebook and kept shoving his phone in Louis’ face as he passed memes or cheesy jokes. 

“I don’t want to work today,” moaned Harry, “I just want to stay in bed all day,”

Louis smiled down at Harry, who was laying sideways on the bed with his head resting on Louis’ chest, “you’ll survive,” he teased. 

“Your support is so helpful, thank-you,” said Harry, dryly. 

They were quiet for a moment before Harry changed the subject entirely.

“What did Matt say to you last night?” Harry had probably been holding back this question for ages, “you seemed upset,” he tacked on for good measure.

“Said I was never there for him anymore,” Louis answered quickly, because maybe a small part of him wanted to be reassured that he hadn’t made the wrong decision not dropping everything to drive out to London.

“That’s not really true, though,” said Harry, “it seems like you’re always there for him. You offered to get him a train ticket,”

Louis sighed, “he's right, though. It’s not the same as it was…before,”

“Before, what?” asked Harry, not really knowing what he was asking of Louis. 

Louis wasn’t ready to answer that question. He wasn’t ready to say _before I tried to kill myself._ Because, that really was what had changed things, wasn’t it? It was Terri who had first stood back, looked at him and told him they were dysfunctional. Told Louis he deserved something more than being hate-fucked in dirty hotel rooms. That he deserved someone who _cared_ for him. And it was Lottie, too, who against all odds and everything their family thought about him had been wounded by his suicide attempt. She had fought to have him in her life. She had fought to make him believe that she cared, and to keep her safe, he’d staved off his time with Matt. 

Everyone who was good in his life seemed keen on him pushing Matt back…but it still felt wrong to him. It still felt like he was destroying another person just to make himself better. Was that really worth it? Louis still didn’t see that he had much value in the grande scheme of things, so he couldn’t really justify destroying Matt to have some sort of happiness. Happiness was all tainted anyway. It was all laced with contingencies and it could be taken away at any moment, and then he wouldn’t even have Matt. He wouldn’t have anything when the people who were trying to fight for him caught wind of what he was really worth. 

“I just… _before_ ,” said Louis and it didn’t really answer the question. “Everything is different and I feel like I had to sacrifice him for that. It doesn’t feel fair,”

“Oh Louis,” said Harry, rolling his head so he was looking up at Louis now, “nothing he does was your choice,” Harry’s words were very serious, “you didn’t sacrifice him to be happy, Louis. He could have done that with you if he cared enough,”

“Its nice of you to say that,”

“Its not _nice,_ Louis, its true. If he cared about himself, about his health, about _you_ , he would have changed. He would have fought to keep you, but the only thing he’s fought for is to keep you as his, like, personal ATM or something,”

Harry was impassioned then, and his words were silly and Louis sputtered a small laugh at them, which seemed to ease the tension in Harry’s forehead. “But I’m so _good_ at being an ATM,”

“Are not,” said Harry, sticking his tongue out.

“I am, you just don’t give me the opportunity to shine,”

Harry smiled at him delicately, “but seriously, whatever happened that changed things with him, do you not feel like it’s better?”

“In some ways, yes,” said Louis, “but I was always all he had. Now he doesn’t have anything,”

“You can’t be responsible for someone else, Louis. He’s an adult. He could choose to save himself and he hasn’t,”

But, the one thing Harry was overlooking here was that maybe no one had ever told Matt he could save himself. No one had ever told Louis until he’d swallowed a bottle of pills and landed in a psych ward. 

 

…

 

Louis had just dropped Harry off at work and was now sitting in the silent car with Zayn in the back seat. Zayn didn’t really speak much unless he really thought it was worth his time. He’d said a lot last night, and it was strange to Louis because he’d never imagined him being the kind of person that made people want to open up. He was a complete idiot when it came to feelings. He was totally useless and he didn’t even know how to feel his own feelings, let alone feel Zayn’s or speak to them. 

They were only a couple of blocks from where Zayn had instructed Louis he lived when he spoke again. 

“I was talking about Liam, you know?” He had the window down and Marsha was freezing, but Zayn apparently needed a cigarette at all moments of the day. 

“Oh?” Louis tried to make it sound like a question, even though he’d mostly figured it out the night before. 

“Yeah,” said Zayn on an exhale, “sometimes I wish it could be literally anyone else, but life’s fucked, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” admitted Louis, because life being fucked was something that Louis probably knew better than most. 

“We hooked up at a party last year,” he began, leaning between the front seats so that Louis could hear him over the cold wind whipping around them, “and I was like…dating 3 or 4 other people,” and of course supermodel Zayn was dating tonnes of people at once, it just wouldn’t make sense otherwise, “and I don’t know. It was different. First time it’s ever been different. Maybe its because he _doesn’t_ kiss my ass and call me pretty all the bloody time, I don’t know.”

“Have you, like, told him?” that’s what people did, wasn’t it? Louis had read enough books to sort of have a grip on how dating went. Someone had to say something, right?

Zayn scoffed at his words, “my final project last year was a paining of his smile. A giant fucking paining that was pretty obviously him, and I titled it _Payn for Pleasure,_ like a fucking play on both of our names, you know? He didn’t even get it. Or he did and he didn’t care,” Zayn leaned back to his place, “either way, it was a fucking painting of him and he just said, ‘it’s really pretty Zee,” Zayn chuckled darkly, “He’s a clueless fucking lump,”

Louis couldn’t help the laugh that fell from his lips. 

He could hear the grin in Zayn’s voice, “didn’t realize my excruciating pain was so fucking funny,”

Louis watched Zayn in his rear-view mirror as he spoke, “well, it’s just that you call him a ‘clueless fucking lump’. I don’t know, maybe that has something to do with it,”

“Well he _is_ a clueless fucking lump is the thing,” explained Zayn, “I don’t hold it against him. I don’t love him any less, but he’s still a fucking moron. I suppose you wouldn’t describe Harry in such harsh terms?”

Louis shook his head. 

“But he might call you a clueless fucking lump though,” noted Zayn, “and that’s not always a bad thing. It’s just a thing,”

 

…

 

Louis had dropped off Zayn and just gotten back to his place. He wasn’t really sure what his family was up to, but he wanted to get back to his room and shower before he even thought about writing that English paper. He softly shut the back door as he snuck toward the staircase. He hadn’t even gotten his first foot on the first stair before he heard his name. 

“Louis?”

It was his mother. She was in the next room and how she even knew he was anywhere close was beyond him. He couldn’t even remember the last conversation he’d had with her. The harder he tried to think of it, the more he thought that, maybe, the last thing she’d said to him was that he wasn’t allowed to be around Lottie. That had been ages ago. Most of him wanted to ignore the word and slip upstairs without acknowledging it. A big part of him, though, wanted to know what he’d done, because he’d been _good_ lately. He hadn’t even gone to a party unless Harry’s dinner party counted. There was honestly nothing that he could think of that would give her any reason to be upset with him, so he wanted to _know_ what she’d found. 

“Yes?” his voice was always so meek when he addressed her. 

“Come in here a moment, would you?” 

She was the sitting room with her MacBook on her lap. As Louis appeared in the doorway, she shut the lid in a wildly out of character gesture, providing Louis with her undivided attention. That was much more than usual. There was something really strange going on here. 

“Dan tells me you’re on the honours list,”

Louis bit his lip. He didn’t know what was happening here. She was still looking at him. 

“Is that true? Are you still attending classes this late into the semester?”

Louis gave her one small nod. He never really knew how to speak to her. Especially not like this, when there was nothing distracting her from meeting his eyes. She looked…so regal, sitting in the middle of the room, addressing her messed up son. Louis felt small. He always felt small in her presence, which was most of the reason why he tried to sneak around unnoticed. 

She held his gaze for a moment, “very well,” she said, opening the computer again and returning her attention to it, “I’d like it if you kept that up,”

She was dismissing him. He was free, now, to run away and attempt to analyze what the fuck had just happened. He tucked his tail between his legs and dashed out of the room and up the stairs. 

The second he laid down on his bed, he felt his face break into a giant grin. The thing was, he really wanted to be mad. He wanted to hate his mother. She was perfectly deserving of such an emotion, but he couldn’t find it, because something he’d done—something _positive_ had gotten her attention. She’d spoken to him about something other than drugs in the laundry. Something other than bitching about paying his bail or giving him money for speeding tickets and leaving the country without permission. Something other than her having to pay for lawyers to get him out of yet another DUI. 

The thing was, Louis had spent his entire life trying to keep quiet but making noise every once in a while so she could _see_ him, to remember that he was there. He’d been dramatic and he’d chased every sort of dragon to try and get her to remember she had a son, but this was the first time he could _ever_ remember that she’d seen him without the theatrics. He’d tried to kill himself and she still hadn't seen it…but now good things were happening in his life and she _saw_ him. She shut her computer and met his eyes (her eyes—he had _her_ eyes) and given him a fleeting and brief moment of her time, but a moment none the less and Louis had been waiting maybe his entire life for that moment. 

And the thing was, he knew that it was really nothing. It was probably nothing to her. He should have hated the woman for countless reasons, but he couldn’t find the emotion anywhere in him. He wanted to wipe his smile away, but it was resilient. He couldn’t stop it. 

Instinctively, he wanted to share the feeling with someone. He pulled out his phone and started to compose a text to Harry. 

**_Louis: First of all, don’t do that thing where you pity me. Don’t make this sad, because I’m really not sad._ **

He sent the first one quickly and started to tap out the next message. 

**_Louis: I know, its just a small dumb thing, but my Mum talked to me. Like…she wasn’t mad. She just talked to me._ **

He sent it, the smile still stuck in place. 

Harry was still at work so he didn’t expect there to be an immediate response, but he was still kind of waiting for it. He was buzzing on some feeling he’d never actually felt before. He really couldn’t put his finger on it, maybe because it was brand new, but she’d seen him. She’d seen him do something right and she’d…maybe(?) encouraged him? Louis had spent 20 years both trying to avoid her gaze and craving it more than anything else and now he had it. He made her look at him and it wasn’t negative. Rather, it was everything he’d wanted it to be all those times before. 

All the years he’d spent trying to prove to her that he could scream the loudest, fuck things up the most, be the baddest, they were all just kind of wasted, now weren’t they? He’d wanted to give her a list of reasons to hate him to help himself understand it, but maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe that wasn’t what she needed at all. Maybe she just needed him to be _good_. To prove that he wasn’t a permanent black spot on their family’s name. Maybe, because she hadn’t always loved him like she had the others, he just needed to prove himself. He needed to prove that he was more than just a memory of her teenaged mistakes, that 20 years of raising her accident wasn’t all in vain. 

Maybe there was some kind of hope here.

And Louis knew more than anyone else in the world how dangerous hope was. Terri had been trying to make him hope since the day he’d walked through her door, but he’d resisted because he didn’t want to expect things. He’d lived his whole life knowing better than to expect things. Knowing that he was the exception to most things. That he was unworthy of the things other people took for granted. 

But now, it seemed like everywhere he looked, there was hope. He was filled with it, and he knew it was dangerous, but he was addicted. 

 

Eventually, Louis managed to wipe the manic smile from his face and he got into the shower. He brushed his teeth and fixed his hair, styling his fringe back from his face and he got dressed. There was something really strange fluttering in his veins, and everything for a really long time had just been _good_. Even the bad moments had been eclipsed by good. Sure, he was still thinking about his phone call with Matt, and the pride that had glittered in Harry’s eyes when he’d said ‘no’ to him. He was still struggling with the knowledge that either he or Harry had to have been wrong. Either he’d done the right thing, or he’d done the absolute worst thing. He wasn’t sure whatsoever. Either Harry was cruel and wanted the wrong things for otherwise innocent people who had had a rough go of life, or Louis was wrong to regret his decision. He didn’t know who he wanted to be right because, even if Harry was right, he still felt like shit. He still let Matt down. He’d still left him in a dark place and a dangerous situation and he’d still chosen himself over Matt’s safety. 

It was a lot to take in. 

When he returned to his bed, he picked up his phone. There still wasn’t a text from Harry, but surprisingly, he wasn’t lacking notifications. There were three texts from Zayn. 

**_Zayn: Thought about what you said, but I shouldn’t have to tell him, you know? He should just know. That’s how the good romances go, right?_ **

**_Zayn: In other news, Liam’s being a tit. He doesn’t want to come over and watch me paint and drink Brandy._ **

**_Zayn: Don’t suppose at some point tonight when I run out of anger at him you’d want to go out for midnight coffee or something? (Being mad at him is what inspires me to paint). Let me know…_ **

Wow, wow, wow. 

Louis’ life was just a series of wins these days, wasn’t it? Zayn of all people, the completely quiet and mysterious and unaffected friend of Harry and Niall’s had taken a shining to him—maybe? He wanted to mark this day down in the history books. It would probably go right next to the page where Harry had chased him down in the hall and brought him a tea the next day. There was a lot to take note of these days. There was a lot of good out there in the world that for some reason was suddenly attracted to Louis. 

He texted back a yes immediately. Zayn was a bit of a nighthawk, and he probably wasn’t going to text Louis until he was already nearly asleep, but he’d wake up. He’d make the time. 

He was scrolling back through his and Harry’s Instagram when when his phone lit up with Harry’s face on it. He slid the answer button and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, Curly, how’s work?” Louis’ voice was light and happy, “did you get my text?”

Harry’s voice was not light or calm or happy. It was heavy and harsh, “haven’t had a chance to read it,” there was something weird happening because this wasn’t Harry. This wasn’t how he spoke to Louis, “listen,” he started, “I don’t know what to do,”

“What?” said Louis, not following Harry’s train of thought at all. 

“I don’t know if I want you to come here or if I should just handle it myself,” he said, and it sounded like he was whispering. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I..” he sighed, “Matt just showed up here and he’s a bit…fucked,”

All of those good feelings Louis had brewing inside of him a moment ago turned sinister. Why on earth would Harry ever think to assume that he should handle Matt on his own? That didn’t make any sense. Of course Louis had to go. He had to go and take Matt away and give him whatever it was he needed to stay away from Harry. It was just what he had to do. 

“I’m leaving now,”

“No—just,” Harry really didn’t sound himself, “I think I can handle it. I should be fine. I shouldn’t have called. Just finish your paper and I’ll call you on my break,”

Harry disconnected the call then without another word. Louis stared at the screen, debating calling him back and warning him to stay away. If it weren’t for Louis, Harry would never have had to deal with Matt. It was Louis' fault that he was exposed to someone so toxic and he had to take responsibility for that. He owed Harry. The only reason Matt even knew where Harry worked was because Louis went there in his stupidly flashy and recognizable car.

He jumped out of his bed quickly and flew back down the stairs, not even attempting to be quiet this time. 

 

It took too fucking long to drive from his stupid fucking _lane_ into town, and Louis knew it. He knew that the half hour it took to get there was too much and that Harry was now already buried in a steaming pile of Matt’s shit and he hated himself from not just fucking preventing this whole thing. If he would have just gone to London, if he would have just picked him up when Matt had begged him, this never would have happened. He would never have had to attempt to pull his two worlds apart. 

Almost immediately, when he walked through the door, he saw them. There was a drink in one of Matt’s hands as he leaned on the hand-off plane, his whole body slack. He did looked fucked up. It was in all of his gestures. Neither him nor Harry turned to acknowledge that the door had chimed. 

“He’s not as stupid as everyone thinks, you know,” it was Matt’s voice. 

Harry was even tempered as he glared daggers at Matt’s slumped body, “literally no one thinks he’s stupid,”

“Point is,” Matt slurred his words. Maybe he was drunk, “he knows what people want from him. He knows you just want him to get you a good grade and buy you nice things,”

Harry shook his head at Matt like he was a child who had spoken out of turn, “not that it’s any of your business, I _never_ let Louis buy me things. I never _expect_ that he will. He might be smarter than me, but we’ve both worked for our grades,” Harry ran a frustrated hand through his curls, “not that I owe you a fucking explanation,”

Matt was laughing then, hiccups escaping between each breath he took, “sorry, I forgot Harry With The Hair was so fucking high and mighty,” he put his drink back down on the counter, “but you don’t know him like I do. He’s just as bad as I am, you know. That boy has fucked with every drug in the book, sweetheart, and let me just tell you a little story about addicts,” he gripped the counter with both hands, leaning closer to Harry, “the drugs always win,” he said in a strange staccato. 

He was wrong, though. Louis wasn’t addicted to anything. He didn’t even miss it, not like Matt would if _he_ walked away. 

“You don’t know him,” Harry’s voice was icy and Louis honestly didn’t think he’d ever heard such a cold tone from him. 

Matt laughed, “oh, I know him. And I know what you want, and he can’t give that to you. He’s too hung up on his Mummy. He doesn’t know how to _be_ with someone,”

Harry was biting his lip so hard Louis could only imagine he was tasting blood. 

“I mean, tell me, does he know?” Matt started again, “does he even have a fucking clue what your puppy dog eyes mean? You can’t fix someone like Louis, you know. He doesn’t get it. He’ll never get it,”

Louis really wasn’t sure if he wanted them to look up and see him, or if he wanted to let Harry handle it, because he’d missed such a large portion he couldn’t even understand what they were arguing about by this point. 

“I’m not going to ask you again to leave,” said Harry. 

“I was there first, you know?” Matt hiccuped again Loudly, “ _I_ was the one who gave him attention. I was the one who brought him to parties, to introduce him to people. He was mine before he’ll ever be yours,”

“He’s a person, he’s not yours,” argued Harry. 

“Now? Now he doesn’t want to be mine anymore, and I don’t know what I did,” there was some kind of pain behind the words, but Louis never knew with Matt whether it was genuine or manipulative, “he tried to kill himself to get away from me, and now? Now he’s trying to kill _me_ to run away with you. That hardly seems fair,”

Louis felt something horrible drip into his stomach. Matt had just said words that Louis had been keeping from Harry this whole time. How many days had he gone over and over in his head how to tell Harry about that? And now Matt had used it as a way to attack Harry and it was just too much. Louis wanted to melt into the floor. Wanted to be anything else but the idiot standing there watching this happen. 

Harry hesitated, no doubt processing the words Matt had just said. Louis was trying to will his feet to move. He wasn’t brave enough to stand there. Not anymore. Now Harry knew the biggest, ugliest and darkest secret that he’d tried to keep wrapped up behind dozens of other skeletons in the back of his walk-in closet. There were a million things that Louis had told Harry, and maybe a billion more that he wanted to tell him eventually, but this? This was too much and it wasn’t his choice and the whole thing was just so _unfair._ He was supposed to be able to control this. 

Matt caught onto Harry’s hesitation instantly, “oh, he didn’t tell you, did he?” he laughed once, “I bet you thought you knew everything there was to know about our little Louis, but you haven’t really got a fucking clue, have you?”

Harry sucked in a breath, trying to school his expression. He shifted his gaze from Matt then and that’s when he saw Louis, standing there like the useless idiot he was, offering nothing to the conversation. Harry’s eyes were heavy and he looked sad, sad like he always got for Louis. Sad in the way Louis hated. Sadness mixed with Louis’ least favourite emotion—pity. 

“What I _do_ know,” started Harry, slowly and evenly, “is that you are a monster of a person. I know that _you_ use him for money and drugs and a way to kill time so you don’t have to think about how fucked up you are, but him? He’s nothing like you. You’re not the same. You are broken, and Louis can’t save you,”

Louis watched as Harry’s words hit Matt. He didn’t react. He never reacted in the moment. Matt would never let someone see that they’d cut him. He’d save the words for later while he licked his wounds. So he bit back quickly with more ludicrous accusations. 

“Does Louis even _know,_ Harry With The Hair? Do you think he’ll ever know? Do you think he’ll ever really get it?” Matt laughed once, “I can’t believe I’m here doing this,” he swatted the drink he’d place on the counter, spilling it all over and splashing it on Harry, “I can’t believe I’m fighting for Louis fucking Tomlinson against some dopey doe-eyed kid who thinks he can save him. Damage is done, Harry, Louis is what he is and you falling in love with his mess isn’t going to change that,”

“You need to leave,” Harry was speaking through gritted teeth, “I told you I’d call the police,”

“Oh, I’d love to be there, Harry With The Hair, the day you tell him you want to fuck. The day you realize how much of a horrible mistake you made chasing after his pathetic ass,” Matt straightened a bit, seemingly more sober the angrier he got, “here’s some free advice,” he began, “save yourself the effort, get a fleshlight. It’s a lot more exciting. Probably cries less too,” he tacked on for good measure. 

Harry turned then, rage in his body language and ripped the phone off the wall behind him pressing it to his ear, “Yes,” he said as evenly as he could, “I’m calling from Starbucks. I need you to send an officer to have a customer removed from the store,”

Once Harry hung up the phone Matt laughed again, “It’s cute you think I’m afraid of police. You know where they feed you for free? Give you pillows and everything?” his smile was sinister, “and I know you think you know how this goes, but you’re wrong. This is the real world, Harry With The Hair, and good guys don’t win here. Trust me from twenty-two years of experience,”

Matt turned then, brushing passed Louis as he made his escape, “he’s a real fucking prince, Louis, great choice.” He paused then beside Louis, reaching down and grabbing his hand, “let’s get out of here,”

Over and over in his head Louis kept hearing Matt tell his secret. He kept hearing the words ‘ _he tried to kill himself’_ and his skin burned where Matt was touching him. There was anger boiling just below his skin. Matt had done a million wrong things in his life, in his time without Louis—but he’d never before really betrayed Louis. He’d never shared their secrets. Now, though, now Harry knew it all. 

And Louis couldn’t deal with that. He couldn’t just live with that knowledge being out in the world. He’d spent two months trying to be better, trying to keep Harry from his past and now it was all gone. In one fit of rage, Matt had taken it all from him. Now Harry knew he was suicidal. Now he had yet another reason to pity him. Now he knew all the things that Louis had probably never really been willing to share. 

And the sex? _Oh, God,_ he was mortified. He could just barely talk about it with Terri, and she’d _been_ there. She’d been through the same thing…and now Harry? Harry knew that he’d slept with Matt. That he cried through it like the pathetic child he was. There wasn’t going to be a way to come back from it. There wasn’t going to be a way to erase all of this knowledge from Harry’s mind. 

And the worst part of all was that Louis, really and truly had wanted to tell him. He’d wanted to be _ready_ to tell him. He’d wanted to share all of the fucked up parts of himself with Harry and Matt had ruined it. He had torn all the secrets from him and thrust them into the daylight. It wasn’t fair, and Louis was used to things not being fair, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that with Harry. He was supposed to be on the right track with Harry. Harry was supposed to be his redemption. 

Now he didn’t know what to do. 

He didn’t know if he could ever really face Harry again. 

The only thing he did know was that he wasn’t leaving with Matt. Not in a million years. Not after that level of betrayal. 

He ripped his hand away from Matt’s with more aggression than he ever knew he had inside of him, “those were _my_ secrets,” and his voice was a mixture of hurt and anger for being forsaken by the only person who knew all of his secrets. The person he’d trusted enough to create them in the first place. Matt may have done a million things wrong in his life, but Louis had still given himself to him, and now Matt had just tossed that aside like it wasn't sacred, and maybe nothing about Louis was sacred, but he didn’t care. He was mad. “You had no right,” and despite the fact that he felt like he was breaking from the inside out, he sounded _strong._ it was something that he had never thought he could describe himself as. 

Matt hesitated for a moment, not really knowing how to process the change in Louis. He’d never been so forceful, so direct. He’d never pushed for anything, let alone pushed someone away. It felt right though. It felt like there was no other choice. There was too much happening inside of Louis, and how _dare_ he have let himself feel guilty for wronging Matt. Matt was willing to throw him under any bus that passed by. He didn’t deserve Louis’ respect. 

There must have been enough rage in Louis’ eyes for Matt to clue in. He didn’t try to say anything else. He didn’t try to snatch his hand back either. He just turned and slammed open the door, making his leave. 

And then it was time for Louis to face Harry. To face all of his misplaced pity and all of the judgement he’d surely have for learning that Louis had chosen Matt of all people as a sexual partner. It was a mess. If it had been weeks before, Louis wouldn’t have hesitated. He would have run before Harry even got a word out. He would have pushed back. He would have tried to break it before anyone else had the chance, but he was still standing there. A really big part of him wanted to choose the running option. It was the most dominant part. It was easier. He still had Terri, Lottie. Maybe he could live without the lifeline he’d found in Harry. That would certainly be easier than facing the mess Matt had made for him. 

He glanced up at Harry then. He was staring over the counter at Louis and it looked like he was on the brink of tears and Louis didn’t get it. It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. 

In a gesture that was wildly out of character and worked against their entire dynamic, Louis crossed the room and stood in front of Harry, “we should probably talk about some of that,”

Harry was nodding, but he wasn’t saying anything. He was right on the verge of breaking down and Louis didn’t know what he’d do. He didn’t know if he could possibly handle Harry breaking down. He’d never seen it. He didn’t know what it would be like…and he knew it wasn’t fair to hesitate like this, because how many times had Harry plucked him right off the ledge and brought him back to reality?

“Harry?”

“I’m—” Harry sucked in a deep breath, “I hate him. I’m sorry and I tried and I know he’s your friend and I have no right to tell you this, but I fucking hate him. I don’t—I want to ask you not to see him anymore. I know I can’t do that, but I want to. He doesn’t deserve you,”

Louis’ chest shook as he inhaled, “can you take a break? Come to the car with me?”

Harry dropped a towel over the mess that Matt had made and nodded, pulling his apron over his head. He met Louis by the door and Louis couldn’t actually believe what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if it was bravery or stupidity. But there was a significant lack of nerves in his stomach and that was alarming in it’s own right. 

When they had taken their spots inside of Marsha they were both quiet. Harry wasn’t looking at him and Louis could only hope it wasn’t because he was disgusted. He just kept going over and over in his mind how the whole thing had played out. How Matt had ruined every little bit of progress he’d made with Harry. 

“I know you probably want an explanation,” started Louis, “and…” Harry’s hand found his then, even though he looked like he was on the brink of breaking, he was trying to comfort Louis and that was just _too much._ Louis didn’t deserve him. There was no way, “it’s true,” and then the rest of the words fell from his mouth like he was Victoria Falls and he couldn’t stop them, “it was about a week before school started and I promise I was going to tell you, Harry. I want to tell you everything, but I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know if I was ready, and I still don’t think I am, and I’m sorry for that. I want to tell you things, I really do, but some of them are just a lot,”

“Louis, I…” Harry had no idea how to finish his sentence, Louis could see that. There were a lot of things that hadn’t been said between them yet and now Matt had fucked it all up. Now there were a million things Harry wasn’t going to want to stick around to hear and Louis didn’t want that. 

Louis huffed loudly, “it’s just,” he couldn’t look at Harry so he stared at his hands, “I told you what it was like for me growing up. I had no one. I never had anyone, just, like, my Gran and her books and all I wanted was someone. It’s like…I had no idea what love was—I still don’t, I guess, but when you’re just this broken little kid and someone finally like, looks at you like that, I just—” Louis hands were shaking and he couldn’t fucking believe he was talking about this. With _Harry_ and not Terri and it just kept coming. “I was wrong I guess, about all of it. But I kind of got lost in it—in him and I never had someone to tell me it was fucked up. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to feel so fucking bad all the time. I just—I honestly thought he loved me,” he paused then, daring to meet Harry’s eyes, “I know that, that probably doesn’t make sense to you…but I haven’t ever really had a clue what I’m doing,”

“Oh, Louis,” and there was that strong pity in the back of Harry’s words and it was still the very worst thing that Louis could name, “anyone would be lucky to get to love you,”

“You’re doing that thing I hate,” said Louis. They’d spoken about this before. He’d told Harry he hated his pity, “you feel bad for me,”

Harry’s bottom lip quivered a little and his sad expression didn’t change, but as Louis inhaled the cool air he kind of felt okay. He was probably going to make it through this, and it kind of felt like maybe he _and_ Harry would make it through. Something about getting it off his chest seemed to have lightened the pressure on his chest and he just kind of felt like…Louis again. 

“You okay, Curly?”

“Never in my life, until I met you, did I ever imagine that something that happened to someone else could hurt this much,”

“Harry,”

“No,” said Harry, trying to compose his expression, “I just need you to know. It hurts and I didn’t expect it. I know you’re always okay, that you’re going to tell me its nothing and that you’re used to it, but that isn’t right. Matt had _everything_ and he just fucking broke it. He just kept breaking you and I didn’t think that knowing that would hurt So. Fucking. Much.”

 


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got to see Ed Sheeran live this past Sunday and it was the best ever and I accidentally fell in love with James Blunt. 
> 
> I am going away again next week for a three day vacation to Montreal to see Ed again... but I'm going to be with another friend who isn't a writer, so I probably will be way behind for my next update but please forgive me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

When Louis pulled up to Zayn's flat, he was waiting outside, sucking on a cigarette (Louis had yet to see him without a smoke between his fingers, even when he wasn't smoking, there was always an unlit one dangling there, Zayn waiting to make a getaway to light it). Zayn smiled as Louis climbed out of his car, tossing the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and leading Louis to his tiny flat, four floors up. It was kind of amazing to Louis that Zayn even had the lung capacity to climb so many stairs. 

When the door opened, Louis knew straight away just how _Zayn_ the flat was. It was messy, but not dirty. There were no dishes in the sink but Louis also suspected that Zayn didn't often eat much more than cigarettes. There were canvases scattered in almost every empty space there was. They were lined up along the stark white walls, which was a strange contrast. The whole flat was white, but there were half used tubes of paint on every surface. Zayn's flat was one tiny room, his couch leaned up against the foot of his perfectly made bed (Louis also reckoned Zayn didn't sleep much either). On the coffee table was a couple of text books and his sketch books and an endless amount of pencils and charcoal. In the centre, of course, was an ashtray that was threatening to overflow. Next to it was the aforementioned bottle of brandy and a half empty glass. 

Being around Zayn wasn't the same as Harry. Louis was still awkward, still nervous that he'd make himself look like an idiot, but there was something calming about Zayn, too, because he didn't care much. There probably wasn't much that Louis could do to bother Zayn. He was a pretty generally unaffected person. 

Zayn dropped onto the couch quickly, gesturing for Louis to join him. Louis sat on the opposite end of the couch and watched as Zayn relaxed, pulling up his feet and digging for a fresh cigarette. Louis was sitting kind of rigid, and it wasn't that he didn't want to be there. He was flattered beyond belief, but he just didn't know _how_ to be there. Zayn watched him while he lit his cigarette and took his first drag. 

"You're always pretty uptight, aren’t you?" 

"Um," was the only response Louis came up with. 

"I mean, whatever," he said on his next exhale, "seems like you're less uptight with Harry, though,"

Louis nodded once, “I guess,”

Zayn smiled then, and it was small and barely touched his eyes, but Louis could see that it was genuine, “You and Harry are good together,” he said offhandedly.

“What do you mean?” asked Louis quickly, because while a part of him was excited that someone had noticed and that he’d said _together_ and not ‘Harry is good for you’, because Louis knew that much and a really big part of him wanted to be good for Harry, too. 

“I mean you’re a smart match?” Zayn raised his voice at the end, now looking at Louis like _he_ was the confused one, “you get on, like, as a couple and all,”

“Uh,” Louis stumbled, “we’re not…like, dating,” 

He could feel his cheeks flaming and the really strange part of it was because Zayn wasn’t the first person who had asked this question. Louis wasn’t really sure why it kept happening. Was it just because he and Harry were both kind of obviously gay? Did people just assume that two people like he and Harry couldn’t just be friends? Louis wasn’t sure why his stomach felt so strange with the accusation. 

“Well, you could have fooled me,” said Zayn, leaning forward and picking up his half empty glass of brandy. He took a long sip while staring at Louis. 

“Sometimes you remind me of, like, one of those kids that was raised in someone’s basement and is just being introduce to society,” Louis wasn’t quite sure if he was meant to take that as an insult. “I mean, like, you’re not very good at reading social queues or anything. When was the last time you had a boyfriend, anyway?”

Louis’ cheeks were still flaming and Zayn wasn’t really helping matters. Louis didn’t know how to answer that question. He didn’t know if he wanted to. He was older than Zayn. His answer should certainly have not been ‘never’. He also should have probably cared more about that than he did. It wasn’t something that had ever kept him up at night, though. It was something he’d just taken in stride. What did he actually have to offer someone anyway? Having someone to date wasn’t something that Louis had spent much time analysing. He was pretty convinced on the fact that it wasn’t something that was probably going to happen for him. He was okay with that. He was pretty much okay with everything how it was right then. It was such a significant difference from where his life had always been. 

So he felt pretty confident that he wasn’t going to hand Zayn permission to be that invasive. 

“When was the last time _you_ had a boyfriend?”

Zayn smiled slyly, “it’s been a hot minute,” he joked, “I’ve had other things on my mind,”

“Like Liam?” this was so much better, he needed to keep Zayn talking about himself to keep the conversation off of him. 

“Like paying rent, exams, painting,” he still had the same sort of smirk on his face, “I’ll never give some guy permission to have that much power over me,”

“Not even Liam?”

Zayn shrugged, “my feelings about Liam are… _complex.”_

 _“_ And you don’t think I’d understand, considering I was raised in someone’s basement and all,” Louis joked back.

“Fine,” Zayn lit a fresh cigarette as he smoked, “I’m afraid that Liam will never love me like I love him, so I refuse to give him the power,”

“or the option,”

“Sassy, tonight, aren’t we?”

“Well, I just don’t get it,”

“Well, I just don’t get you and Harry, either,” Zayn’s tongue was quick and he wasn’t like everyone else in Louis’ life. He didn’t try to baby him and keep him from the truth the way Harry did. He suspected a lot of the reason had to do with the fact that he didn’t actually know just how accurate his example of Louis as a child raised in a basement actually was. 

“There’s nothing to get,” he responded.

Zayn was quiet then, busying himself with refilling his glass. He offered Louis a sip, but Louis shook his head in the negative, trying to figure out what on earth they were doing here. He wasn’t really sure why Zayn had even invited him over at this point. He wasn’t really on an equal playing field so to speak, so he didn’t really get how to help Zayn through this whole Liam thing. And aside from that, he didn’t know if Zayn _wanted_ to be helped. He seemed kind of content in his unrequited love story. For that, there really was nothing Louis could do. 

“But what about you, mole child?” asked Zayn, “what’s eating at you on this fine evening?”

Louis huffed out a sigh, “I’d rather not talk about it,”

Zayn was quiet for a minute, sipping his drink and finishing his cigarette. He put it out in the mound on his ashtray and then turned to face Louis, a serious look in his face. 

“When I first started getting all… _moody_ about this Liam shit, Harry was the first one that picked up on it. He guessed straight away what was up but I didn’t want to talk to him about it because he just gives me these big puppy dog eyes and tells me how bloody _beautiful_ falling in love is and he’s so fucking excited for me or something and—it’s just not me. I don’t want his soggy emotional feelings getting in the way of me making smart and sane decisions. It’s nice to have someone who can just, like, listen or tell you how it is, you know?”

Louis didn’t really _have_ that, so no, he didn’t know. 

“Which is half the reason I wanted to talk to you about it. I mean, you don’t really know me, and you don’t know Liam so you’re unbiased and I appreciate that,” he smiled a bit with one corner of his mouth, “and you’re more clueless than I could ever pretend to be and it’s strange but it’s refreshing in a way. So, if you wanted to just tell me what was bothering you, that would be fine because, like, I’m not going to squash you with feelings like Harry does,” he paused, a look of horror crossing his face, “god, I can’t even _imagine_ how many emotions he’s tried to squash you with,”

Louis smiled then, “fine,” he said, adjusting his posture so he wasn’t directly facing the intimidating boy sitting next to him. Zayn’s eyes were deep and exhausting and bored and riveting all at once and Louis wasn’t really ready to deal with all that complexity. “I have this, um, kind of friend, and he said some things in front of Harry and I…I’m just worried…about what Harry thinks of me now,”

Zayn pressed his lips together for a second and then nodded, reaching back to the table for his glass, “have you ever seen the movie _Juno?_ ” he asked as he brought it to his lips and took a small sip. Louis nodded, not really getting what kind of random train of thought Zayn seemed to be on, “well, there’s this part when the clueless dad isn’t really so clueless and he says to her, _‘the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass’_ ,”

Louis paused for a moment, waiting for Zayn to fill in the gaps. He didn’t though, so Louis was left dangling with some random movie quote from a movie he barely liked in the first place. 

“And?” he finally prompted. 

“And?” repeated Zayn while he held another unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and twirled it slowly, “Harry thinks the sun shines out your ass,”

 

…

 

Louis was waiting at the entrance to Harry’s building. There was a strange feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t really sort out the way he was still feeling about what had happened the day before. He still felt like he’d betrayed Harry’s trust in some way. He still felt like he should have told Harry everything and not given Matt the opportunity. He wasn’t sure how Harry was going to feel about him now. He’d been dishonest, and really who wanted to be friends the pathetic thing that laid there crying underneath someone like Matt? Who wanted to be friends with someone that was suicidal? There were a million reasons why it didn’t make sense for Harry to want anything to do with him and, while Harry had mostly just ignored those reasons, now he had two more pretty large ones that would more than likely send him running. 

Louis' life was a mess. It was always a mess and he was tired of it. He’d been tired of it since that night he’d swallowed those pills, but it didn’t seem to matter how hard he worked. There was always something out there in the universe that was waiting to remind him just how shit he was. 

Harry opened the door then, taking a seat next to Louis and immediately grabbing onto Louis’ hand, “missed you last night, how was Zayn’s?”

Harry sounded normal. Louis didn’t feel normal, but Harry did and that had to count for something, right? 

“It was…different,”

Harry gave a small laugh, “sounds like Zayn. He’s always moody and vague,” 

Louis nodded and the car was quiet for a moment before he reached to change gears. Harry caught his hand before he got the chance to move the car. 

“Are you okay, though?” Harry’s eyes burned into Louis with sincerity.

“I’m…” Louis paused, “I just feel…dumb. Like, stupid. I just feel like you’re the only person who never had a bad opinion of me and now…he ruined that,”

Harry shook his head furiously, “he didn’t change anything, Louis. You’re still the same person you were before he said anything,”

Louis nodded slowly, but he didn’t feel the same. He felt stupid and exposed and unwell. 

“You are one of the most resilient and brave people I’ve ever gotten to meet, and now that I know more of what you’ve been through?” Harry paused, “it just makes me feel lucky that I get to be one of the people who watches you grow into the person you’re supposed to be,”

Louis sighed, “thank-you,”

“I mean it, though, Lou. I don’t care about everything else, just this,” he said, joining his hand with Louis and placing them both over Louis’ heart, “just us. Just you,”

Louis smiled then, because he felt Harry’s words. He felt the truth behind them and it was enough right then. Maybe they were going to be okay. He’d grown so used to Harry in his life and even if things were a little weird for a moment, he wasn’t ready to detach. He wasn’t ready to let go of something as pure as Harry. 

 

…

 

Louis led Harry toward the back door of his house. His whole family was still home. It was the middle of the day on a Saturday, and walking through the house alone was a risk. Bringing Harry along was more of a risk. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide Harry, it was just that he wanted to hide himself. It was still his first instinct when it came to his family, and he probably wouldn’t be able to change that very easily. There was also the issue that he’d been told a million times that he wasn’t allowed to bring people over (which was mostly due to Matt’s past antics). Part of him was more than willing to risk all of those things because Harry _wanted_ to come over. He wanted to be in Louis’ house and it was a strange thing to begin with. He’d claimed that his flat was too Loud because Saturdays Niall played video games and chatted to his family on the phone and they were Irish and loud. Louis didn’t understand how a house with nine people and countless staff seemed quieter to him, but he didn’t really ask for clarification. This was only going to be the second time Harry had come to his house, so it still felt strange.

Before Louis opened the front door, he turned around to quickly brief Harry, “Just—if anyone tries to say something to you, just ignore them. We’ll just head up to my room, yeah? We’ll just go in quietly and no one will even see us,”

“Louis,” Harry had that sad/pity look in his eyes. Louis felt sick.

“Just—I don’t want to deal with them, you know?”

Harry wanted to say something else, but Louis watched as his swallowed the words and nodded, following Louis as quietly as he could. 

They made it to the staircase without anyone noticing and Louis let out a sigh of relief as he placed his foot on the first stair. Nothing could be that easy though. He heard his mother’s voice then. 

“Louis?” she called him from the sitting room. 

He slumped his shoulders, his mind briefly shuffling through his options. He could most definitely have just dashed up the stairs and pretended that he hadn’t heard a word. That was a solid option because she wouldn’t chase him. This was only the second time she’d spoken to him since he’d gotten home from the hospital. But he also really didn’t want to look like a total coward in front of Harry. He just wanted her to have not said anything at all so he didn’t have to choose between cowardice or embarrassment for whatever she was going to say to him. She was probably about to casually remind him that there were children in the house and that his sort of visitor was not appropriate for them. He didn’t want either of those things. 

But what he did want, what he was only just realizing more and more as the days went on, was any sort of attention from her. Yesterday had made him even more hungry for it than usual. Probably simply for the fact that her attention hadn’t been negative. 

He turned then and looked at Harry, “hang on a sec,” he whispered before stepping down from the stairs and making his way to the sitting room. 

He stood in the doorway, looking at his mother. Doris was in her lap, laughing happily.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice quiet and submissive as he addressed her for the second day in a row. 

“Who’s that with you?” her voice didn’t edge on critical which was really fucking strange. She sounded interested, “bring him in,”

Panic slipped into Louis’ stomach as he thought about what on earth she was going to say to Harry. He turned away from her and motioned for Harry to join him. Harry bounced over confidently and Louis felt a pang of jealousy over the fact that Harry didn’t find her the scariest woman in the world. 

“What’s your name, love?” his mother asked of Harry immediately. 

Harry flashed her a big dimply smile and waved at Doris happily, “Harry,” he said. 

Something happened to Louis’ mum’s face. A flicker of something he didn’t recognized flashed across it. She smiled politely, “it’s good to meet you, Harry. It’s nice to finally put a face to a name,”

_And what?_

A face to a name? When on earth had his mother heard Harry’s name? What planet even was this?

“Finally?” he mumbled, tossing a confused look at his mother. 

“Charlotte has told me a lot about you, Harry,” Louis mum wasn’t answering him, but she was still talking to Harry and it was all really fucking weird. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Deakin,” Harry’s voice was polite and he really was a natural in any situation like this, “and I’m guessing this must be Doris,” he stepped further into the room to greet Louis’ sister. 

“You can call me Jay,” said Louis’ mum and _what?_ She was putting Harry on a first name basis? How did any of this make sense?

Louis hovered in the doorway and watched as Doris climbed off of their mother’s lap and made her way to Harry without hesitation. Harry beamed and got down onto his knees and opened his arms, Happily sweeping her into a hug, “Well, hello, gorgeous,” he said, lifting her off the ground. She squealed with delight and nothing made sense. Harry was holding his baby sister and _Louis_ had never even held his baby sister. 

Louis' mum watched Harry for a moment without speaking. He was just kind of cooing and lifting Doris in the air and she was screaming with delight. How did he do that? How did he make everyone feel comfortable around him? Harry was kind of like a magician. He had a way with people that Louis didn't understand. 

Louis was watching Harry and it took him a minute to realize that his mother wasn't. She was looking at him. Harry was on the floor again, tickling Doris and Louis' mum was staring at him while he watched. His face felt hot and he felt his posture sink under her gaze. 

"What are you boys doing today?" 

She was looking at Louis, so she must have been asking him. He wasn't sure though, because he didn't think there had ever been a point in his life where that was a question she'd ever ask him. They just didn't have that relationship. He'd accepted that long ago, he thought. 

He took too long to answer, so Harry was speaking for him. 

"Homework mostly," said Harry, getting back up to his feet. Doris protested, but he was sensing that this conversation was coming to a close. He took his place next to Louis as they both waited for her to release them from the conversation. 

"Really?" She asked, staring directly at Louis again. 

Louis nodded once. 

She smiled and it was strange. It wasn't that she never smiled, Louis had seen all the pictures hanging on the walls. He’d watched from the sidelines while she'd laughed with her husbands and other children, but he couldn't honestly remember a time when one had been directed at him. 

“We're working on a biology project," Harry was filling in all the spaces where Louis was supposed to be talking and he was thankful for that. He wasn't really able to function passed his shock about the whole thing. 

“Very well then,” she said, smiling at Harry, “I’ll leave you to that. I was nice meeting you, Harry.”

Louis was pretty sure his jaw was on the floor. His mother was acting like a completely different person. She was acting like he was one of her other children. She was acting like she cared about the things in Louis life. Was this all it took? Getting good grades, making a friend? Was that all she’d been waiting for? It didn’t make any sense. He’d gotten straight As through most of his childhood and that hadn’t mattered to her then, so why was it suddenly something she put stock in?

He walked behind Harry toward the stairs until he heard his mother again, “Louis, come back a minute, would you?”

Louis was going to be sick. There was something really strange happening in his life right now and he didn’t know how to cope. He walked slowly back to the doorway. His mother had Doris back on her lap, but she was looking at him and she was smiling and Louis might actually die. 

“I like him,” she said. 

And Louis knew that there were ten million reasons why her opinion shouldn’t mean a single thing to him. He should probably have yelled at her and told her it was irrelevant and that she didn’t get to just start caring after 20 years of ignoring his entire existence. 

But Louis couldn’t be that person. For one, she was right. Harry was good and anyone who saw him could notice that. He was good for Louis. Even his mother could see that. And maybe Harry could take credit for the fact that Louis was still attending his classes and maybe he could also take credit for the fact that Louis wasn’t fucking up in every other way, too. And a really big part of Louis knew that he should resent his mother for even attempting to have an opinion. It was Harry who had been there. It was Lottie who had made him promise all those first few nights that he wasn’t going to try killing himself again. It was Terri who filled him with the idea that he was worth more than what his mother had given him. 

And she had no right to have an opinion here. 

But she did and it was _good_ and it was _right_ and Louis needed to hear it. 

He felt his lips twitch as he tried to fight the smile the wanted to break through. He was happy to be on her radar, but he didn’t necessarily want her to know that. He didn’t really want her to take that much credit. He didn’t want to give her the power and let her know she could affect him. 

“Thanks,” was all he managed to say. 

She nodded once, “you’ve made some surprising choices recently,” it didn’t sound like an accusation though, “keep it up, Louis, I’m really glad to see it,”

Louis heart was hammering in his chest and he just kept thinking about how many times his mother had said his name in the past few moments. It didn’t sound like it normally did either. It wasn’t accompanied by his middle name and there was no bite behind it, she was just addressing him like a person. It felt good. And _he_ felt good, even though he should have been stronger. He should have challenged her. He should have demanded answers from her. 

“Okay,” was all he said.

“Go enjoy your time with Harry,” she said dismissing him with a slight quirk to her mouth. There was an almost-smile there and Louis didn’t really think he’d ever been responsible for so many almost-smiles.

 

…

 

“Why do you think my mum has always hated me?” 

Louis was in a hurry. It was Tuesday and he needed answers. He’d been wrestling with so many thoughts all weekend and he could only stay locked in his own head for so long before he was ready to explode. Sure, this was a topic that he had taken off the table from the first day he’d sat in one of Terri’s foolish beanbag chairs, but now that didn’t matter. Now everything was out in the open everywhere and things were a mess and everyone could see all of the reasons _he_ was a mess, so fuck it all. This was a safe place, wasn’t it? 

Terri choked a bit on her tea while Louis pulled his backpack off his shoulder and dropped into his chair. He’d barely even gotten the door closed behind him before the words were falling from his lips. 

The thing was, he’d spent the weekend with Harry as he usually did, but there was something different now that he knew everything. There was some part of Louis that sensed that change and shied away from it. Normally, he spouted all of his family issues to Harry and everything else to Terri, but now everything was mixed up and he might as well embrace it. 

He met her eyes, expectantly waiting for the answer. She must have had it. She had an answer for everything else he felt, so why was it taking her so bloody long to give him this answer?

“Well, we’re not wasting any time here today, are we?”

Louis shook his head in the negative but didn’t say anything else. 

“Do you really think its just as easy as asking me that question and me giving you an answer?”

Louis shrugged, “you have an answer for everything else,”

“Louis, sweetie, that’s because everything else is a reaction to exactly what you just asked me,”

“And?”

Terri shifted in her seat and put her tea down, “if you’re ready to talk about this, we can start to work at it,”

“But I just want to know _why_ ,”

Terri’s eyes looked like Harry’s when he was full of pity and god damn it. Louis hadn’t signed up for this—not from his therapist. He didn’t want her pity, he just wanted her answers because the question hadn’t stopped repeating itself in his head since the day he’d introduced his mother to Harry. He just needed a break. He needed some clarity and that was supposed to be her job. 

“Why don’t we start with this,” Terri said evenly, “what happened this weekend?”

Louis rolled his eyes because she just had to be right about everything. It was annoying, “I don’t know…good things, bad things, weird things,”

“Weird first,” said Terri, smile on her face. 

“So I think one of Harry’s mates, like, adopted me. He keeps texting me and talking to me and he’s really weird but he’s also really nice and he calls me a mole-child,” Louis smiled a bit fondly at trying to sum Zayn up in a quick sentence. There wasn’t really a way to do that though, because, like his feelings for Liam, Zayn was complex. 

“That sounds positive,” admittedly, after the day she’d forced the information about Harry out of him, Louis hadn’t really said much about him. He still liked keeping Harry to himself, but he could kind of feel now that it was going to change. Maybe it was supposed to be like this. Maybe Terri was supposed to know everything so that she could answer the questions he had. 

“Now the bad,” she prompted. 

“I…” Louis huffed because the bad was bad and he didn’t really know how to talk about it and it wasn’t what was bothering him the most (which was really fucking weird), but he knew it was what she would get hung up on, “well, the bad was bad,” he started, trying to think of a way to graze over it so that they could move on to the good and so that she could teach him how to _keep_ it good, “Harry knows I tried to kill myself and that I, uh,” he still hated to say it out loud, especially to Terri because Terri understood it, “um, did things with Matt…like the sex things,” he could feel his whole neck burning with his blush, but he tried to plow on, avoiding her eyes, “I didn’t tell him though, and I wanted to, but Matt did it first and he and Harry got into it and I got there too late and it was all just a really big mess,” Louis sighed, “and, like, maybe one day I’ll be ready to talk about those things, but I’m not yet and I’m afraid that might upset Harry," 

Terri was nodding slowly as Louis emptied his insides onto the floor as per usual, “do you think that any of that changed Harry’s opinion of you?”

Louis shrugged, “he said it didn’t, but it’s kind of hard to believe because, like, those are two really stupid things,”

“Louis, they aren’t stupid at all. They’re a part of your life. They’re still things you’re working through,” she paused, “but, do you see them as part of your past or your present?”

“Are you asking if I’m suicidal?” 

“Partly yes,” she admitted softly.

Louis shook his head, “no,” he hadn't really analyzed it point-blank before that moment. Being suicidal had kind of been a fleeting point in his life. It hadn’t really ruled him before the day he’d tried, and once he’d left the hospital he’d spent more time wishing he’d evaporate than _die_ and that had to count for some sort of progress, didn’t it? He actively didn’t want to die. More often than not, too, he actively wanted to live. There were parts of his life that he was looking forward to, things to wake up for and that was more than he’d ever had. 

“Good,” said Terri, a little glimmer of pride behind the word (which, she probably deserved to feel because she’d dragged him most of the way out of this mess), “what about Matt, though? Is that still going on?”

The blush was still burning his skin, but he felt it intensify because he knew what she was asking. He couldn’t really remember the last time he’d _been_ with Matt like that. Matt had been everywhere but Doncaster recently and their interactions had been few and far between and he somehow doubted that there was any way he was going to be able to subject himself to sex with Matt after everything that had happened on Friday. Louis was hurt and he still felt that sting of betrayal. He couldn’t imagine things going back to the way they’d always been. 

“I think I know what you’re asking…” Louis sucked in a deep breath, along with what was left of his pride, “and it’s been awhile. I don’t know if it will happen again,”

Part of Louis felt like a child because he and Terri had to talk about his sex life without ever actually using the word sex because Louis couldn’t handle it. It led him to near breakdowns and that was just another reason on the list of why he was pathetic. 

“Because of Harry?”

Louis met her eyes then, his eyebrow raised, “why would it be because of Harry?”

A crease formed between Terri’s eyebrows as she looked patiently at Louis and then she sighed, “am I missing something?” she asked tentatively, “is that not the direction you want to be heading with Harry?”

“Is _what_ not the direction? I don’t understand what every keeps asking me,” his voice edged on hysterical, because Louis was far from stupid, but there was something about everyone around him and the way they gently nudged at him like he was missing something. 

Terri sighed and nodded her head as she spoke, “do you not think that you and Harry might be heading towards dating? Is that not what you want?”

“Uh, no,” said Louis, “that’s definitely not what’s happening. Harry’s my friend. I trust him,”

“And you don’t think trust could be important with someone you’re dating?”

Louis was quiet then, because he didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know the first thing about dating and didn’t imagine that it was something he’d ever know about. He didn’t reckon there was going to be a time in his life where it was something he did. There was just too many odds stacked against it and he didn’t care about it, really, but the way everyone else kept bombarding him with questions about it made him feel like he should. 

“Louis?” asked Terri softly after she realized he wasn’t going to respond. 

“What,” his voice was quiet and he was starting to lose sight of the actual question he’d come here with. 

“When I was really deep into being sick I had the same feelings about dating as you. I was just used to being abused and I didn’t even consider that maybe someone out there would be interested in my mind as much as my body, but you know what I found when I started to get better?”

“What?” again his voice lacked emotion because he was so fucking bad at emotion. 

“I found someone who loved the person I’d become,”

“There was probably nothing wrong with you in the first place,” noted Louis. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Louis,” she said firmly, “you just need to get used to that idea. You might not have fallen in love with you yet, but that doesn’t mean someone else can’t. Whether or not it’s Harry, which I have a strong suspicion it might be, someone is going to prove to you that you’re worth loving, but you’re not going to be ready to see that until _you_ are okay with the person you are,”

“Can we just…not?” Louis felt like he was at the end of a fraying rope. He adored Terri, he really did. He thought the world of her and he wished he could be more like her, but it just wasn’t something that was in the cards for him. He hated when she got like this because it wasn’t realistic. Louis was supposed to be trying to learn to live his life despite the fact that no one had ever loved him. He wasn’t supposed to be getting swept away in to some grand fantasy that probably had nothing to do with real life. There wasn’t a reality out there that fit the one people kept trying to shove down his throat. 

And the thing was that he didn’t _care_. He wasn’t concerned with the fact that he’d probably never have a real relationship. Everyone else was concerned about it for him and honestly, it was just adding stress where he didn’t need it. Of course, it wasn’t even really something he could say out loud because he would just be once again rolling over and letting everyone see just how pathetic he was. There was no good way to say to Terri that he knew he was completely unlovable but he didn’t care because despite that glaring fact, there were some good things. There were things to look forward to and reasons to live. That should have been enough for Terri, it was enough for him, so why did she keep throwing this dating thing in his face? He didn’t _care._

“These are things we should talk about, Louis,” she argued. 

“I came here and asked you a question and you haven’t even tried to answer it,” he argued. 

“Because there’s more to it than just that,”

Louis buried his face in his hands, “but there can’t be,” he said in frustration, “you can’t just have this kid and ignore him for 20 years for no reason. There’s a reason and I just need someone to tell me what I did so I can just fix it,”

“Louis,” her voice was slow and she was sad for him, but he hadn’t even _said_ anything. He’d just asked the obvious question that he’d been wondering as long as he could remember. If she could just answer it, maybe he could stay on the track he was on. Maybe his mother would keep noticing him. Wasn’t this what Terri had wanted all along? Didn’t she want to fix his relationship with his family?

“I thought this is what you want to talk about,” he spat, he couldn’t help the fact that his voice was snarky and that his palms burned a bit with his unfounded anger, “I didn’t want to, and you kept pushing you and now I’m asking you: why has my mother hated me my entire life? I just want to fix it,”

“I can’t answer that question, Louis,”

“But,” Louis eyes were burning, and no, he wasn’t going to cry about this because it was dumb. Terri had know the answer. She knew the answer to everything and crying was stupid because things had been so bloody _good_ lately. “I need to know,”

“Louis, sweetie, I sincerely doubt that there is anything I can say that will give you the answer you think you’re looking for. There’s no way for someone else to know. What we can work on is changing things, if that’s what you want.”

“But they’ve already changed,” he argued, “I’m not looking for change, I just want to know why so I can fix it,”

“What’s changed?” she asked softly. 

“She’s spoken to me. Twice this week. I don’t know what I did, but it was different and she knows how well I’ve been doing in school and she met Harry and it was…different, but I don’t know why,”

“Your mother met Harry?”

He nodded, “and she liked him. She told me. She never talks to me about _good_ things. She just yells at me when I do something wrong but she hasn’t done that the last two times, and its good, you know? I just want it to stay like that, and if I just knew why she’s never liked me, maybe I can just change that so things stay this way,”

“Do you want a relationship with your mother?” Terri’s voice was open and questioning and it was hard for Louis to determine how he should answer. 

“I shouldn’t, right?” he asked tentatively. 

“I didn’t ask if you _should_ want a relationship with her, I asked if you did,”

Louis swallowed once, “I wish, sometimes, that I did. Most of the time, actually, but I also know that I should be mad at her. That I shouldn’t be so ready to forgive her, but I just feel like there’s a reason. There has to be because she’s so good to Lottie and my other siblings. It’s only different for me and that used to make me mad, but now I just want what they have,”

“Have you considered asking her?” 

“I can’t do that. Not yet. I need to deserve it,”

“Louis, sweetie, you already _do,_ ” explained Terri softly, “Every child deserves to have a parent they can rely on for love and support. You never had that, but it doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve it. You don’t have to earn anything, Louis. 

Louis was quiet as he stared back at Terri. He didn't know what to say next. He didn't know if he was meant to agree with her, but he didn't. Maybe in all of her seemingly infinite wisdom, Terri had the ability to miss things. Maybe she still didn't know enough about him to know what he deserved.

"But, Louis, the good thing about being an adult and surviving through all of that is that you get to do things on your terms now. You can choose to fight to have her as a part of your life. If that's what you want, Louis, you can try to have that. I know you don't see it like I do, but I can promise you this, you've changed. You've changed with me and you've changed with Lottie and I  _know_ that Harry was what you needed. You've come alive, Louis, and I promise you she's noticed that. You should be proud. You've gone through hell to get here. If you want to have her in your life, Louis, you can ask for that." Terri paused a moment, "the same goes for dating, too, Louis. If you want it, you can have it."

He chose to ignore everything else she said, "I don't date."

"But why?"

Louis chose to narrow his eyes as a response.

"Well, Louis, if it's just because no one's asked, I think you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that someone might."

 

...

 

Despite the fact that Terri had been wildly ambitious with her assumptions during his session, Louis still left with a pretty decent outlook. She'd latched on to the progress he'd made with his mother and tried to encourage him to go further with it. There was something really big and really soft blossoming inside of him and it felt a lot like hope. And Louis had learned a lot about hope in his life, and it had mostly been bad. But if the last couple of months were any indication, maybe hope wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

It was dangerous, he knew that, but he couldn't help the little flicker that was still inside of his stomach as he thought about the prospect of him next conversation with his mother. That was the thing that struck him the most though, was that he actually believed with everything inside of him that there _would_  be another conversation. 

Louis knew that maybe he shouldn't let himself cling on to the hope that was unfurling in his stomach, but he also couldn't stop it. It was growing at a rapid pace and it was getting harder and harder to repress it. To refrain from giving it a name, because he knew now. He knew what it was. It was hope and it didn't do well at being ignored. 

Louis' mother deserved a lot of things, and maybe none of them were the respect of her eldest son, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't change the way he felt and Terri said it was okay. She said it was normal for him to want a relationship with his mother and that it was okay for him to ask for it. 

So, as he locked up Marsha and made his way to the house, he yet himself hope for his mother to beckon him again. He decided it was okay to look forward to it. There was a bounce in his step as he reminded himself of the way she'd _looked_  at him, closing her laptop to grant him her undivided attention and how she'd expressed how pleased she was about his grades. It was okay. It was all okay because things really were getting better. He'd spent long enough doubting it and now it felt like maybe it was time to admit to himself that there was a strong possibility that he could get used to this upward trend. 

For the first time in a long time, Louis didn't sneak through the back door. He marched straight through the front door and dropped his keys in the dish on the cabinet by the door smiling slightly at the Marsha keychain and remembering the sparkle in Harry's eyes when he'd handed it to him. Things weren't bad. In fact, they were very, very good and Louis was going to march (not silently) up the stairs and call Harry and tell him as much. 

As he approached the stairs, he heard Lottie's voice. It was coming from the sitting room. It felt like it had been ages since they'd done something together. Maybe he'd have to change that. Maybe he should take her to Starbucks for one of her ridiculous drinks and a visit to Harry. 

He paused though, just before the stairs when he heard his name trickle into the conversation. 

"Do you think, maybe, that this year Louis could come to Spain with us?" 

The question was so pure, so innocent and Lottie's voice had no hint of the bite that sometimes lived behind it. Louis realized, then, who she was addressing. His mother was in the room and this was definitely the moment when Louis should have retreated up the stairs. Surely he had learned his lesson a hundred times over about listening to other people's conversations when they involved him, but that damn hope. It was planted deep inside of him and it just kept blossoming and now Lottie was asking the question he'd not yet allowed himself to hope for a 'yes' on. Of course he wanted to go to Spain with his family. Of course he didn't want to spend his eighth Christmas in a row completely alone.  

"Now's not a good time, Charlotte," his mother's voice was dismissive, as though she hadn't fully decided on an answer. Damn that hope, it just made it grow another few inches inside of him. 

"He should come, though, right?" Urged Lottie, "because, like, no one should be alone on Christmas and he's your son. He needs us."

"I'm not having this discussion right now, Charlotte,"

Lottie could only be dismissed so many times before her rage took over, and as soon as Louis heard the next words, he knew it was time to leave. 

"He's coming," she challenged, "he almost died, and I'm not gonna let you leave him behind because what if he tries again? He's your _son_ , you're supposed to care about that stuff. You can't just leave him behind. You have to stop leaving him behind." 

Louis was tempted to leave because things were turning sour and he knew that he shouldn't sick around to hear it, but he felt rooted to his place. 

His mother let out a long exhale, "I can't take your brother out of the country, Charlotte," 

And _what_? Louis could leave the country any time he bloody wanted to and the stamps in his still-valid passport to attest to that. What was she talking about? Louis had left the country more times than he could actually remember. Her logic made no sense, and it was definitely time for him to walk away before he got caught up in any more of her ridiculous explanations, but still he stayed nailed to the ground. 

"Your brother has a problem with drugs and that's not something I take lightly."

Lottie scoffed loudly, "no he _doesn't_ , you don't even know the first thing about him."

"I know that I can't let him ruin the trip for all of us when he tries to bring drugs into Spain, sweetheart,"

"Make him take a piss test, if that's what you think. He's not on drugs, mum, he can come to Spain."

"I can't do that to you, Lottie. I can't set you up for that kind of disappointment. I know you care for Louis, but he has a problem and for that reason I can't let us all be let down."

"What _wrong_  with you?" Lottie's voice was pure rage at that moment. Louis knew he should have walked away long before she got to this point, but he was still standing there, listening as his mother continued to shatter his excellent mood. 

"Darling, I know you don't want me to be right but you're still a child, this isn't your decision. Louis can't come to Spain with us because he will ruin the trip for everyone. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear,"

That was Louis' queue to leave. He dashed passed the sitting room then, his mother's eyes jumping up to meet him as he flew passed. 

Idiot. Idiot. _Idiot_. 

What the fuck had Louis been thinking? He'd known better his entire life and he let some fucking clueless woman convince him otherwise. It wasn't the system that was broken, like she'd tried to make him think. It was Louis. It was always Louis. The world wasn't going to bend to accommodate him now. It had never bent before. No one had ever made an exception for him before and he was a fucking idiot to have believed for even a moment that now would be any different. 

God damn that stupid bit of hope he'd indulged himself in. Damn Terri convincing him it was worth his time. She didn't really know anything, did she? She pretended to know him but she didn't really know anything. 

Damn Harry, too, for sitting there and telling him he deserved more. That he deserved a family that didn't push him aside. 

They didn't know anything at all. They didn't know the real parts of him. They didn't know the truth. There was just no way they could be right despite the rest of the world. 

The worst part of these realizations for Louis was that someday they would know. Some day Terri and Harry would see the truth and then they would leave. 

And he'd be alone again. He'd be broken worse than before because he'd let down his guard despite all of his instincts. 

Louis felt like maybe his chest would break open and he would bleed out on his bedroom floor. 

Maybe that was still the better choice. 

 


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I listened to a lot of City and Colour while writing this chapter, and Louis' song is What Makes a Man?
> 
> Listen, listen, listen! 
> 
> Next update will probably not be for ages (I know I said that last time, but I wrote this whole bloody chapter in a day), but I mean it for real this time. It's almost time for round two of Ed Sheeran in Montreal and IM EXCITED. 
> 
> Thank you, as always, you're all the best <3

Louis heard a knock on his door. He paused his reading briefly to contemplate his options. He could call out and see who it was, but he didn't feel like risking it. He didn't feeling embarrassing himself by opening his mouth. He glanced at the door. He could also have gotten up and silently opened it, giving himself the power to slam it if he didn't like who was on the other side. 

But the most attractive option was for him to stay exactly as he was on the floor, surrounded by Bukowski and his other favourites. He didn't actually want to talk to anyone. He had too much to work through. Which was stupid, because shouldn't he be old hat when it came to being disappointed at this point?

He stared at the page, eyes flitting across the words, but he wasn't absorbing them. He just kept hearing his mother over and over as she crushed his dreams. He felt like a fucking idiot. He'd let himself hope that things would be different, but she still didn't have a clue who he was. She still saw all the wrong things and he wasn't going to be able to change that. 

The knock came again, but he didn't change his resolve. He stayed planted on the floor, his body facing away from the door and his books attempting to act as a make-shift sanctuary. 

It had been hours, now, since he'd been brought back down to earth with his mother's words. Since they'd made that brief second of eye contact as she'd tried to convince his sister--his only ally in this house--that he was shit. She obviously didn't care that he'd heard. If they had been any other family in the world, she'd would have sought him out to apologize or explain herself, but they were strangers. She'd let him walk away. Of course she had and he had no reason to expect differently of her. 

Two hours ago, he might have been stupid enough to let himself hope that it was her knocking on his door, and he might have even opened it, too. But now? Now he knew the truth about everything. Now he'd been reminded of exactly how the world saw him, so fuck that. He wasn't going to answer the door. He was done putting himself out there into the world. What a stupid mistake that had been in the first place. 

The knock came again. He contemplated just asking them to leave, but he couldn't stand the possibility of listening to his own weak voice telling whoever it was to sod-off. It was probably Lottie, anyway, and he needed time. He'd be ready to face her soon enough, but right then, he wasn't. 

"Lou?" 

Well, that wasn't Lottie's or his mother's voice. It was Harry. Harry was standing outside of his bedroom, and Louis didn't have a clue what to do with this information. 

He didn't respond. He just stared at the book in his hands blankly. Harry's voice came again, along side a softer knock. 

"Lou, I'm going to come in, okay?"

"Okay," he finally responded.

Harry opened the door slowly and walked into the room, closing it softly behind him. Louis turned around to face him. 

"Hey," said Harry, a smile on his face that wasn't touching his eyes at all. 

"How'd you get here?" And Louis didn't mean for the question to come out so strained, or to make Harry feel like he'd done something wrong, but the guilt that flashed in his green eyes said that Louis had done just that. 

"Uh, your mum let me in," he explained softly, "I borrowed Niall's car because I wanted to surprise you," he swallowed hard, "is it a bad time?"

Part of Louis wanted to tell Harry what had happened, but a bigger part of him was ashamed that he had fucked up bad enough for most of his life that his sobriety wasn't even _believable_. He really didn't want Harry to think for the millionth time that Louis was living the saddest, most pathetic life possible. He was getting really sick of Harry feeling bad for him. 

"Uh," started Louis, hesitating as he looked up at Harry from the floor. He shook his head softly, "no. Just some mum stuff. Not a bad time."

Harry gave him a look of warning, like he was challenging Louis' story, but he didn't ask, so Louis didn't tell. 

"You want to sit?" Asked Louis. 

Harry nodded and took a seat next to Louis. He immediately rested his head on Louis shoulder. 

"Thought you were working," noted Louis softly. 

"It was dead so they sent me home a couple of hours ago so I decided to make you a surprise. I didn't realize you weren't feeling great,"

"'M fine," lied Louis. He was a little bit closer to 'fine' now, though, with Harry there. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Offered Harry in a soft voice as he linked his arm through Louis' and continued to lean on his shoulder. 

"Absolutely not,"

Harry laughed softly under his breath, "well if you change your mind, 'm here,"

Louis was quiet then, staring down at the book in his hand. Harry's timing was either absolutely horrible or impeccable and Louis wasn't sure which, but it was almost too good. 

"Did Lottie talk to you?"

To his credit, Harry sounded genuinely confused, "no, why?"

Louis shrugged, "your timing's fishy is all. Waltzing in here with promises of surprises right in the middle of a shit day,"

"First of all, you just said you were fine. Second of all, I wanted to surprise you because you're Louis Tomlinson and you happen to be my favourite person in the world and you deserve all the surprises,”

“You know so little of what I deserve,” Louis joked feebly, because there was a lot of truth behind his words. Harry knew next to nothing about Louis’ true colours. “Besides which, how would your mum and Niall feel if they heard you say I’m your favourite?”

Harry squeezed his arm tighter and brushed his nose against Louis’ neck, “it’s different, though, with you, Lou,”

“Different, how?” Louis managed to ask, because he was ready to be distracted now. He didn’t want to think about his mum or Christmas or Spain. He leaned his head on top of Harry’s. 

“Because you make me feel things my mum and Niall never will. You’re special,”

Louis wanted to fill the space with a million excuses of why he wasn’t special and why Niall and Harry’s mum deserved to be the favourites. But he also wanted to be the favourite, so he shut up. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t even asked me what your surprise is,” Harry said after the silence had stretched passed the point of being uncomfortable. 

“What’s my surprise, Curly?”

“Well, I borrowed Niall’s car so Marsha could have a break. Also maybe so that I get to decide when you can leave,” Harry smiled up at him at that, “and I made us a special picnic spot in my room so it’s just us,” Harry’s eyes were glittering with pride as he announced his plan, “and I made us sushi,”

Louis smiled back at the shear excitement behind Harry’s announcement, “you made sushi?”

“Vegetarian sushi,” Harry amended, “I don’t fully trust my ability to handle raw fish,”

“Don’t know what I did to deserve you,” joked Louis. 

“You know so little of what you deserve,” Harry fired back at him, nudging his nose against Louis’ jaw and grinning up at him. 

Harry got to his feet then, reaching his hand out to Louis, “come on, then, Cheekbones, we’ve got a sushi bedroom picnic waiting for us,”

 

…

 

When they got to Harry’s flat, Zayn and Liam were sitting on opposite sides of Niall. Zayn was mumbling about how little he cared about football while Niall and Liam played FIFA loudly. Louis felt himself brighten a bit while he watched them and Harry took of his boots. Zayn turned then, half smiling when he met Louis’ eyes. 

“My night in shining armour,” Zayn said slowly to Louis, “you’ve come to save me from the stupidest video game in creation.”

“Nope,” said. Harry quickly, grabbing Louis’ hand and tugging him toward his bedroom, “Louis is all mine tonight.”

“No fair,” Zayn called after them, “you never share. You’re worse than a preschooler.” 

He and Harry laughed as they moved out of Zayn’s sightline. Harry hadn’t dropped Louis’ hand as he led them toward his bedroom. He pushed open the door and Louis felt something warm settle into his chest. Harry had pushed his bed out of the way, so there was an adequate amount of floor space for the huge plaid blanket he’d laid out perfectly smoothly on the floor. On top of the blanket were plates and chopsticks and condiments. There was a bottle of sake in the centre (Louis despised sake, but he’d choke it back for Harry). 

“Harry,” there was a hint of longing in his voice and he just felt really warm and happy inside of his chest because Harry had done all of this for _him_. And he hadn’t even known that Louis was having a bad day. He would have done just the same on a normal day and there was something really special about that. 

“Do you like it?”

 _I love it_ was on the tip of Louis’ tongue, but he still felt a weird sort of detachment from the word. He still felt like he wasn’t quite qualified to properly use it in a sentence. 

“It’s perfect,” he said instead. 

Harry tugged Louis in for a quick but firm hug, “sit,” he urged when he pulled away, “I’ll grab the food,”

 

…

 

The food was long gone and Louis and Harry were halfway through the bottle of sake, still sitting on the floor, but they were no longer across from each other. They both had their backs leaned against Harry’s bed, and Harry had tucked Louis into his side, his arm wrapped tightly around him. 

“Tokyo is…chaotic,” said Louis softly. 

Harry had been quizzing him on the places he’d been, making sounds of both awe and jealousy. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been to Japan, too,”

Harry sounded jealous, but he didn’t really need to be, because his trip to Japan had been when he was still young enough that his mother felt obligated to bring him. He’d spent a huge chunk of it alone in his hotel room (which he shared only with his Nanny, while the rest of his family had a large shared suite a few floors up). He’d also gotten lost in the middle of the city and panicked for hours before he’d finally found someone who understood enough English to get him back to his hotel. He’d been eleven, and he’d been lost for hours, but when he’d finally gotten back to the hotel room he shouldn’t have been so surprised to learn that no one had noticed. 

“Where haven’t you been?” asked Harry when he noticed Louis was lost in his head again. 

“Lots a places. I stopped really travelling after I was old enough to stay behind,”

Harry bit his lip and nodded, pulling Louis tighter against him. 

“What about you? Have you been many places?”

He felt Harry shake his head, “nah, my mum was never really able to afford taking us many places. I went to Ireland with Niall once a couple of summers ago. That’s the only time I ever left the country.”

“Where _would_ you go, though, if you got the chance?”

“New York,” Harry said the words with a flicker of excitement that lit a deeper warmth in Louis’ chest, “I have always wanted to see Broadway,”

Louis remembered this. It was one of Harry’s childhood dreams. It was one of the first things Harry had ever told him. He’d wanted to act on Broadway as a kid, and that was so endearing that Louis’ next words came out without much thought. 

“So, you should go,”

Harry snorted a laugh, “of course, rich boy, that’s so obvious. I can’t believe I never thought of it like that! I’m sure plane tickets to New York are under £100,”

Louis laughed along with him, “ _we_ could go,”

“Louis Tomlinson, I won’t even let you pay for a pizza, what do you think the odds are that I’d ever let you pay for a trip to America?”

Louis sighed, “but, it’s just money, and technically it’s not even mine. You’d just be helping me stick it to my mother,”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’ll never let you pay for a trip to New York. Make me a deal and watch _Rent_ with me instead,”

“Seems like settling, if I’m honest, when we could just go see _Rent_ in person,”

Harry laughed, reaching out to tickle Louis (his ribs were an admitted soft spot—damn Harry for using that to his advantage), “stop flaunting your money, Cheekbones, it’s really exhausting try to stave off your luxurious gifts,”

“So, don’t.” said Louis once his laughter had settled. 

Harry shot him another warning glance, “I’m happy. I like being here in Doncaster—with you.”

“Happy you came,” said Louis because he was. Harry was the beacon of light he’d waited his literal entire life for. Nothing in the world could make him feel more grateful. 

Harry wrapped his arm back around Louis, pulling him tightly to his chest. They had so many moments like this. Harry was always so open and warm with him and Louis felt safe and so at home with him. There were parts of himself that he’d never even realize existed before parts of Harry coaxed them out of him. Louis was kind of _funny_ and that was new. He liked it. He liked making Harry laugh and he liked when Harry played back. Harry didn’t mind that a good chunk of Louis’ humour was self-depreciating, because he almost always countered the things he said with something positive about Louis. They struck a perfect balance and Louis was almost overwhelmed with it. 

The thing was, with Harry everything was different. Harry looked at him like there was no illusion of secrets between them, and maybe that was because there were barely any. Harry pretty much knew everything there was to know, and while Louis held some of his emotions about his past back, Harry still seemed to know. Best of all, though, was that Harry knew how to react to things. He knew how to make Louis forget about the years he’d spent in darkness. 

Harry was different, too, because he made Louis feel things that no one else did. Maybe it was because he was so soft and open with his affection in a way that Lottie and Terri weren’t. Harry also never missed the opportunity to remind Louis of exactly why he was there. If there was ever even a tiny thing Louis did that Harry liked, he told him, and no one else had ever done that for him. No one else had even so much as let Louis know he _could_ do something right. With Harry though, he had to wonder if there was something he could do wrong. 

Of course, aside from these outward things, there was the constant turmoil that Louis was dealing with inside of himself. There was the nagging reminders in the back of his mind that he did’t actually deserve any of it. He’d done nothing right in his life, so there was no real reason for him to be able to deserve and keep someone like Harry in his life. The doubt was strong, but Harry was strong, too. He was determined to make Louis believe that he was really in this thing for the long run. 

“Hey, Louis?” Harry’s voice was soft and it felt nice against Louis’ ears. 

Louis pressed himself tighter into Harry’s chest, listening as Harry’s heart picked up it’s pace, “Harry,”

“I, uh,” oh, wow, Harry’s heart really was trilling now, Louis hadn’t been over-reacting, “wanted to talk to you about some…things.”

Louis felt a bit nauseated while he waited for Harry to continue. He tightened his grip around Harry’s body, though, not wanting to lose his place, or risk looking into Harry’s eyes, because Harry was acting weird. 

“Okay,” Louis’ voice sounded guarded, and he hadn’t meant for that to be the case, but he also didn’t want to change things with Harry. Harry sounded different, though, and he was scared. 

“I, um, I’d like to do this more,” Harry was definitely nervous, his heart was beating a mile a minute and his skin was heating up and Louis was confused because they _did_ do this all the time. They always hung out and talked. There was nothing really different happening there, was there? “um, like, you and me. Quiet nights together. I’d like to do things like this for you more.”

Louis really wanted to be able to speak. He wanted to contribute to the conversation, but honestly he was more than a little lost. He wasn’t sure why Harry was acting so strange. There was a flutter of something in the pit of Louis’ stomach and he couldn’t really put a name to it, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to be stifled or if he wanted it to take him over completely. Still, he stayed glued to Harry’s side, his eyes focusing on the blanket that was beneath them. Harry was shifting uncomfortably and Louis had probably missed his queue. 

“Um,” said Harry, moving beneath Louis and _no, no, no,_ he was trying to meet Louis’ eyes and Louis couldn’t do that. There was something strange and heavy in the bedroom then and he wasn’t sure, but maybe it had always been there? Maybe Harry had just been avoiding it for Louis’ sake all this time and that stung. He was a bit mad at himself for not feeling it first. For, _still_ not being able to put a name to it. 

“Do you…” there was a question on the tip of Harry’s tongue and _oh god_ Louis wasn’t ready for it. There were tears threatening his eyelids and how stupid would it be when he lost control and just vomited all over Harry? That would probably help things, wouldn’t it? “I, um,” Harry had no idea how to say what he was trying to say and suddenly, even though he’d never been bad at math _before_ Harry, things finally started to click. Finally things started to add up and Louis felt like a fucking idiot for not being able to see it until now, with Harry stuttering through his words like they hadn’t stayed up nights together wrapped up in each other, spilling their guts. Louis was definitely going to be sick. 

“I like this,” the words were simple and tentative, “and like, I wasn’t kidding when I said you were my favourite person. I wouldn’t want to spend time like this with anyone but you,”

Did that mean what it felt like it meant? 

 _You know he fancies you, right?_ Lottie’s words all those weeks ago cut through his thought process Louis was pretty sure that it was entirely possible to suffocate on emotion and confusion. He was probably going to die right there wrapped up in Harry’s arms while Harry tried to tell him how he felt and that would be pretty ironic, wouldn’t it? He was going to die right there in the arms of the person who had finally woken him up and made him want to live. 

But he could still be wrong, though, couldn't he? Because the whole thing made little to no sense, and yeah, maybe there had been a warm fuzzy feeling in the air every single time Harry had so much as _looked_ at him, but that didn’t mean anything, did it? It wasn’t possible that the actual most perfect human being in the world had real, honest feelings for Louis Tomlinson. For the fucked up rich boy who had lived his entire life in shadows cast by his grandfather’s name and Matt’s addiction. There was just no possible way that _that_ was what Harry was trying to tell him. 

Louis probably should have said something, but he really couldn’t think through the feeling of actual suffocation. Harry’s grip on him didn’t loosen and he started to feel a little bit guilty because Harry was unabashedly sharing his feelings and Louis wasn’t so much as responding to him, and that wasn’t very fair, was it?

He really wanted to speak. He also really wanted to know what the fuck he was feeling other than violently ill. He wanted to have a response. He wanted to know how he was supposed to respond. What was Harry’s end goal, here, anyway? What did he think was going to happen?

_What could ever happen?_

It still felt like it couldn’t possibly be real, despite the palpable tension in the air and the intensity of Harry’s heart beat and the way Harry was gripping Louis against him like he was afraid he might run away. Being honest with himself, Louis knew that running away was a solid option, because he was a bit of a void. Harry couldn’t just keep giving and giving to him. One day he was going to run out and Louis was probably still going to be empty. 

“Can we, just, like, talk for a bit?” Harry’s voice shook a bit with his words—and of course it did. Louis was leaving him hanging because he didn’t fucking understand. He never fucking understood, but for once he felt like he might actually be onto something. 

But he really didn’t know if it was even something he _wanted_ to be onto. 

But it was Harry. Louis didn’t say ‘no’ to Harry, so he nodded softly. 

“I haven’t always had the best luck, like, in my personal life and all,” 

 _Oh god._  

A wave of nausea took Louis over and he almost threw up, but he tried to keep it at bay. Harry was really going for it, wasn’t, he? He wasn’t reading any of the horrible _STOP. STOP. STOP._ cues that Louis was sending and this might end badly. It really felt like it was already ending badly. 

Here was Louis, the fucked up person he was, and he’d been given this incredible gift of Harry Styles. He’d been given his first real, honest friend. The first person he’d ever told his secrets to, and he’d come at the most pivotal possible point in his life. The person who was willing to look passed everything right when Louis had needed it the most. Right when he was on the cusp of living and dying and he’d gotten so used to it. Harry was everything to him and this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that things had to change. That Harry would see how little Louis had to give. 

Why couldn’t anything just _stay?_  

Why did Louis have to keep getting swept up in shit-storm after shit-storm. Couldn’t they just _be,_ like the way they’d been going?

Louis didn’t have more. It was obvious that Harry did. Harry was full of a labyrinth of feelings that Louis could never hope to navigate and it just wasn’t fair because Harry could keep digging into that, could keep evolving and giving Louis more and more, but Louis didn’t have more. 

And it _so_ wasn’t fair for Harry to ask for it. 

“I had two boyfriends back home and both of them just wanted to hang out, like, in dark basements or whatever. They weren’t ever brave enough and stand up and say they were _with_ me. I kind of got used to being the dirty little secret, but I always wanted more than that.” Harry’s voice was heavy as he spoke and he probably knew that Louis was breaking into a million pieces in his arms, “but I never actually expected that I’d get more than that. I was always so used to settling that I assumed that’s all I’d get.”

Harry didn’t have to settle. That was terrible. Harry should have been able to have whatever he wanted. He certainly deserved it. Settling wasn’t something that should have been in the cards for him. 

Especially settling for _Louis_. 

He really, truly, deserved more than that. Maybe Louis had been monopolizing too much of Harry’s time. He hadn’t given him the chance to realize that there were so many better options out there for him. 

Louis didn’t like that thought, because his time with Harry was precious, but Harry shouldn’t force himself to settle. There were probably millions of perfect guys out there who would give anything for a shot at a boy as sweet and careful as Harry. Louis probably owed it to Harry to give him the chance to see that. 

“I can be a really patient person,” Harry started, “and it’s not that I’m not willing to keep being patient, but I just—I want it all to be out there. I want you to know everything about me in case you’re ready for things to change,”

 _Do you not think that you and Harry might be heading towards dating? Is that not what you want?_ Terri had asked him. The words were just replaying themselves over and over in his head. 

Fuck being suicidal. Fuck being on drugs. Fuck being isolated in the largest family in town. Fuck every stupid thing Louis had been through, because there was nothing on earth that could possibly compare to how hard this was. This thing Harry was trying to do. It didn’t make any sense and Louis felt more than a little bit of irrational anger over the fact that Harry had picked him up, because he couldn’t leave. He didn’t even have his car. Harry had trapped him here. 

He’d backed Louis into a corner and now he was throwing all kinds of feelings at him and Louis couldn’t really dodge them for much longer. They were building up now. It was getting harder and harder for Louis is ignore what he was saying. The old parts of Louis, the parts that didn’t know a single thing about emotions or relationships, he wanted those parts to take over. He wanted to drown all over again in his oblivion. He wanted to not know what Harry was thinking about. He didn’t want this newfound awareness. He wanted to slip back into being the same clueless person he’d always been before Harry had waltzed into his life with sunshine and dimples and promises that Louis was worth everything. 

Harry was his best fucking friend. The best friend he had never let himself hope he could have, and now he was here trying to say something more, and while it didn’t make any fucking sense, Louis couldn’t ignore that it was obvious. 

How on earth had he managed to make Harry feel something for him? All he’d done was show his true colours. Complain about his family, his childhood, his battles with drugs. He’d cried and avoided Harry and pushed and pushed until he realized he was too weak to keep Harry away. He hadn’t even done anything right and still, Harry was sitting there, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, and on the cusp of confessing something that Louis was really, in no way, prepared to handle. 

The signs were all there, now. Louis couldn’t un-see them. Niall’s words when he’d apologized, _if things are going that way with Harry and all,_ he’d said. Now, as Louis looked back it made sense. _That way._ How had he not caught that before?

Things weren’t heading _that way,_ though. He couldn’t. Louis didn’t have a fucking thing to give to Harry, didn’t even know how to approach the thought of whether or not he even wanted to. What he did want, what he knew he wanted, was his best friend. Louis felt like he was going to collapse under the pressure of the room. 

Still, though, Louis didn’t say a word. 

“I think I might be fucking up,” said Harry, trying to force Louis’ head upwards so he could look at him. Louis clung tighter, his fist tightening in Harry’s shirt. He didn’t dare to move. Harry, in that moment, was a source for too many things. He was the cause of the boiling turmoil inside of Louis, but he was also supposed to be Louis’ safe place. It had been so long since Louis had had a true, honest panic attack, but he felt it brewing because he was trapped. He wanted to cry and freak out and yell at Harry that he wasn’t being fair. He needed Harry and Harry was fucking it all up. 

“I’m sorry, Lou, I’m so sorry,” Harry sounded broken and it was no doubt due to the fact that Louis was doing a fucking awful job on his side of their friendship, too, by ignoring every single word out of Harry’s mouth. 

“I just—there’s so many moments where I just feel so much. I only get that with you. No one else does that and I’m just telling you this because I promised I’d ask the next time. I promised I wouldn’t ask you for anything more than you’re willing to give, but I just have so much more I want to give you,”

Emotion swept through Louis’ body, making him shrivel in on himself as he thought back to the day in his pool. The day Harry had made the promise that he’d ask next time. Harry had been about to _kiss_ him, that was it, wasn’t it? Louis could practically feel the brush of Harry’s lips against his, the way he’d pressed Louis’ back to the wall of the pool, nuzzling his nose against Louis’ neck. 

That wasn’t how friends acted, was it?

FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Why couldn’t there just be one thing in Louis life that was sacred? Couldn’t he just have one thing that he got to keep? Why did everything have to leave, have to change?

“I’m sorry,” it sounded like Harry was almost crying, but _why_? Was it because Louis was fucking up and just kept forgetting to respond?

Harry pushed Louis away from him then and Louis wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready at all when he was finally forced to look at Harry’s eyes and they were hurt. They were sparkling with a deeper green and usual and they were glassy with his emotion. Louis curled in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

How could _Harry_ of all the people in the world do this to him? How did he make it stop?

There was a ball of fire in his stomach, fuck being sick, he was going to fucking burn from the inside out and he hoped it would happen soon. He hoped he would burst into flames so that he never had to deal with the hurt that was shining in Harry’s eyes. 

And the thing was, for months now he’d been totally blind. He hadn’t even noticed anything strange about how Harry acted with him, or how everyone else made comments ( _Harry thinks the sun shines out your ass_ Zayn had said). But now, he couldn’t just play dumb. He wanted to, but he knew now. Knew that Harry had misplaced emotions that he was directing at Louis and he wanted to be able to fix that. He wanted the very best for Harry, and that would never be him. 

“I mean, we talk about everything, Lou, but we never talk about this.” Harry wasn’t touching him anymore and that was a bad sign. He was mirroring Louis’ body language, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, “don’t you want more? Don’t you ever think that you deserve that? Because, like, I know things have been shit for you with your mum and with Matt, but haven’t you ever even considered a relationship? Do you…do you not want that for yourself?”

Now would have been the perfect time for the flames to lick him from the inside out, but even hoping as hard as he was had done nothing for him. He wasn’t igniting and Harry was really looking at him now and it had been at least a solid fifteen minutes of him avoiding any sort of answer. Harry deserved to know the truth though, and Louis wished he didn’t have to be the one who gave it to him. 

It wasn’t right. None of this was right because this wasn’t what he wanted. Sure, he should have been used to that. Louis very rarely got the things he wanted, but when it came to Harry it had almost seemed like the exception to that rule. It seemed like Harry, instead of giving him the world, had gone above and beyond and given Louis an entire universe that he’d never even let himself imagine. 

And now? Now he was confused and he’d broken it. He was sitting there with heavy eyes, begging Louis for so much more than he knew how to give and it wasn’t fair. 

“I can’t do this,” Louis voice was rough and it shook and he saw the exact moment that his words registered with Harry. “I can’t do any of it, okay?”

One tear slipped from Harry’s eye and fuck Louis wished he knew what to say. Wished he could give Harry the things he wanted.

“I just know you get confused about the people around you sometimes and you don’t always see things for what they are, but I don’t want to be part of that anymore,” confessed Harry and _no,_ Louis wasn’t ready, “I don’t ever want you to be confused about how I feel about you,”

Louis was just mad now. Everything else had left him. 

“Just…imagine it, Harry,” Louis’ voice was harsh, even to his own ears, “I spent my entire life being pushed aside. No one ever saw me, and then that changed. Someone saw me, saw the weakness and used me and broke me. How can you possibly sit there and ask me if I could _ever_ want a relationship? I have no idea what that even means. Don’t you understand that? I can’t want something I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be my friend, how can you not even see that?”

Was Louis being unfair? His words seemed so harsh. 

Harry looked broken and fuck. Might as well kiss this goodbye. How many times since their friendship began had Louis gone through this in his head? How many times had he rehearsed what it would be like to lose him? How many times had he gone over in his head that Harry couldn’t possibly be permanent? He _knew._ He knew that it would only be a matter of time before he fucked it all up and he broke them. He’d decided long ago that it was worth the risk. That just the idea of having Harry in his life at all was going to be worth losing him. 

And now, here they were, Harry with his heart on his sleeve and Louis pushing it to the side like it was an equation that was way too hard for him solve. 

Louis had fucked it up the most, but Harry had helped. He’d sat there and forced this whole thing on Louis and he should have known better. He knew Louis better than any other person in the world. He should have known it was doomed. 

Before Harry could scramble to say anything to Louis’ outburst a commotion erupted outside of the closed bedroom door. There was a large smash followed by Zayn’s voice, shrill and angry. 

“ _What the fuck, Liam,”_ he growled, “ _you fucking idiot,”_

Niall was the one who immediately jumped to Liam’s defence, “ _It’s just whiskey, Zayn, we can clean it up,”_

 _“No, but you’re always doing dumb shit like this,”_ Zayn’s voice was all rage, _“you don’t give a fuck about anything but yourself. What a fucking waste. That’s Niall’s good whiskey and of course you’d have to fuck that up, too.”_

Complex. That was the word that Zayn had chosen to sum up his feelings for Liam. Complex didn’t really seem to sum this up, though. Louis wondered what happened, but he was also stuck in some weird place with Harry. They were both staring at the door now, Harry’s interest had been peaked, too. 

Thank fuck for Zayn and his distractions. Louis was getting a migraine and he wasn’t really sure how much longer he could have possibly gone on existing in a world where Harry was trying to pour confessions all over their perfect sushi picnic. 

Maybe it had been the sake. Maybe Harry was drunk.

Maybe Harry would apologize in the morning. 

“ _Would you just fucking cool it, for one bloody second,”_ it was Liam’s voice this time. 

“ _No, I won’t because you’re a fucking wanker, Liam,”_

 _“What the fuck is your_ problem.” Liam was matching Zayn’s rage level and it was really something to behold. Louis kind of wanted to wander into the living room to see what had sparked this whole thing, but Harry was still in his place, his arms wrapped around his knees as he watched the door like he could see the whole thing. “ _You’ve been acting like a proper fucking prick since I said I wanted to play FIFA,”_

_“Because FIFA is fucking shit and you were supposed to hang out at mine while I painted.”_

_“Video games are more fun than watching you, the broody introvert, paint your sad paintings. Your flat is always so fucking sad.”_

_“Well, it’s not like_ you _could spark a real emotion in me.”_

It was at that very moment that Niall barged through the door, slamming it behind him. He leaned against it, his eyes wide as he looked down at Harry and Louis, their bodies distanced and arms wrapped around their knees, not daring to look at each other. The regret in his eyes was instant. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, “it’s world war three out there.”

He looked to Harry, but Harry didn’t say anything to him. They just stared at each other for a moment, like they often did, exchanging thoughts in that wordless way that only best friends could. Louis had never had that. There was a pang of jealousy. Harry was supposed to be that for him, but they were nothing like him and Niall. Harry had a whole host of confused feelings and Louis hated them all. 

“So, coming in here was maybe not my best escape method,” Niall said slowly, eyes flicking back and forth from Harry to Louis. “In my defence, though, they might actually kill each other. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

 _“You’ve been like this every fucking day lately. What the fuck is your problem?”_ Liam’s voice penetrated through the closed door. 

 _My ‘fucking problem’,_ Liam, _is that you’re a selfish, shit person. Everything is all about you lately and I’m sick of it. Do you ever think of just asking me what’s wrong instead of fucking accusing me? Did you ever consider that maybe you’re my fucking problem?”_

Zayn was admittedly going a bit overboard, but Louis almost saw where he was coming from. Sometimes it was hard to handle emotions. There was all kind of pent up rage inside of Louis right then and he could see the draw to exploding. Louis didn’t explode, though, unless exploding into a giant crying mess counted. That was really the only way that he had ever learned how to deal with things. He’d never actually explode like Zayn was, but he almost wanted to, because he’d quite honestly never been as angry as he was currently. It was his dominant feeling. 

But the sadness in Harry’s eyes? It was making it impossible for Louis to make a decision. Every part of him wanted—no, _needed_ to run. He needed to get away. He needed a chance to analyze this and figure out if there was any way to salvage things with Harry. 

“You okay?” Niall’s voice cut through Louis’ thoughts. Louis looked to Harry and Harry was shaking his back and forth. His lip was quivering and Louis wasn’t really sure who had fucked up more. Maybe it had been him? 

But _Harry._

Harry had put so much pressure on him. He felt like he was sinking under the surface and it wasn’t fair because what was Louis supposed to do with this information anyway? He didn’t want it. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need to even entertain the idea that he and Harry were something more than friends. He had just barely accepted that they were friends and that maybe it was something he could get used to. He didn’t need these other million promises dangled in front of him. He didn’t want them. 

Niall’s eyes met his then and Louis felt sick again. There was that same promise burning behind his blue irises that said he’d do anything to protect Harry. Maybe it was time for Louis to leave. 

He could still hear a commotion outside of the bedroom door, and he was really stuck. He’d have to leave through Liam and Zayn’s spat, but he couldn’t very well stay where he was. Where Harry was very much not okay and Niall was very much ready to end his life. 

He got to his feet then, looking down at Harry. What was his process here? What was he supposed to say? He needed to leave, that was very much the truth. There wasn’t a question there, but he couldn’t just leave without saying anything…not after Harry had said so much while Louis clung to him like a sad toddler. Niall’s eyes were on him as he looked down at Harry. 

“I should go,”

“Louis, please,” there was one single tear that was running down Harry’s cheek and Louis wanted to wipe it away, but everything was fucked. Everything he did now could mean something else, and he didn’t know how he felt about that. “I’ll drive you. We aren’t done talking.”

“I can’t,” said Louis, staring mostly at Niall who’s gaze was burning a hole straight through him. “I’ll call my driver,”

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s voice was heavy and he was not paying attention to Niall at all, and Zayn and Liam’s voices were blurring in the background. He couldn’t make out what they were saying anymore. He was stuck on Harry. There was a sick feeling in his stomach and his heart was racing in his chest as he tried to ignore the words that just kept falling all over him. 

Did Harry really want that? With him? Did he really think that Louis was capable or something more than he’d already given? Sure, he’d given his body to Matt, his money, but he’d given so much more to Harry and it stung that it wasn’t enough. That Harry, of all the people in the world, still wanted more from him. He had been the first person to convince Louis he was enough and now he wanted more. More than Louis could give and it stung. It made his organs feel like mush in his body and his heart feel like it wanted to give up.

Harry got to his feet, then, reaching out for Louis. He gripped Louis’ hand in his and stared at him with _those eyes._ Those eyes that begged Louis for something more than he’d already given and he didn’t know what it was or how he was ever supposed to be able to give it to him. Nothing made any fucking sense. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Louis, but—”

Louis was hurt, his words came out more callous than he intended, but he had no control left in any place in his life, “I needed you to be my friend.”

“I _am_ your friend, Louis, always. I’m all in it. I’m not going to change that.”

“But you did.” Argued Louis as he walked toward the door of Harry’s bedroom. Niall stepped to the side and opened the door for him. 

Louis heard Harry call after him, but he couldn’t go back. Not with Niall looking at him like that. Not with Harry asking him for things he couldn’t give. It wasn’t fair—but Louis should have been used to that. 

He paused as he saw Zayn and Liam, standing on inches from each other. Zayn’s hands were in firsts at his sides and there was a huge puddle of whiskey on the ground and shattered glass everywhere. Liam looked _hurt_ and that was the only word that came to mind when Louis took in his expression. Despite the crease between his eyebrows and the way that he challenged each word that Zayn fired at him, Louis could see that Zayn’s words were hitting home. 

“You’re fucked up,” Liam spat. 

Zayn’s eyes flicked to Louis then. Louis paused for only a moment before he started to walk toward the door. 

“I’m so done with this. With you and all your fucking shit, Liam, I swear it,” growled Zayn as he made to follow after Louis, “I don’t know what I ever saw in you,”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Louis heard Liam call after them as they shut the door to Harry and Niall’s flat. 

Zayn’s hands were in his jacket pocket instantly, pulling out a cigarette within seconds. He put it in his mouth, motioning for Louis to follow him to the stairwell. He had his lighter out and was taking a deep breath of the smoke before he could even form a word. 

Louis stole the opportunity to make this about anything other than him and Harry. He didn’t even mind that Zayn had followed after him. “That was… _something.”_ Louis said. 

Zayn sputtered a laugh as he coughed out his smoke, “irrational is the word that comes to mind,”

“You said it, not me.” smiled Louis. 

They were almost at the bottom of the stairwell then and Zayn had nearly smoked his entire cigarette, which was a feat in and of itself. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Louis pushed the door open and welcomed the bite of the cold air.

Zayn led Louis out into the parking lot, “come back to mine? I really need to whine,”

Louis nodded, following Zayn as he walked toward the sidewalk. Zayn busied himself with taking out another cigarette. He started smoking it quietly as they walked in the cool night toward his flat. There seemed to be a weight on Zayn's shoulders and Louis understood the feeling. He felt like he’d gone through hell that night and it wasn’t even done yet. He was grateful, though, that Zayn had asked him to follow because Louis didn’t know what it would be like if he were alone. He didn’t know what kind of darkness he’d think himself into. He could really use the distraction of another fucked up human being who had tried to explode on the object of his desires. 

Complex. 

“Wait a minute,” Zayn grabbed Louis wrist and pulled them both to a stop, “what happened to you? Why are you leaving? I thought this was supposed to be the night Harry wooed you.” Zayn’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell opened, “no,” he said, gripping Louis’ wrist tighter, “you didn’t reject Harry, did you? Fuck, you’re more fucked than me. Niall’s going to be so mad. We were all rooting for you, you know.” Zayn dropped his wrist again and started walking forward, “fuck, this whole night is fucked. I’ve got brandy at mine. We’re obviously drinking it all. You probably need it more than me.”

_Reject Harry._

Yeah, maybe Louis did need a drink. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Louis.


	17. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 500 years later...
> 
> Sorry about the wait on this chapter. 
> 
> I still love you all and I hope to get the next chapter posted ASAP
> 
> <3 <3
> 
> Also, mild trigger warning for mentions of non-consent. Super not graphic though!

Louis woke up with a stiff neck and a heavy heart on Zayn's couch. It was just passed seven, and of course, Zayn was awake (or still awake—Louis wasn’t sure). There was a burn in Louis' stomach, a reminder of how much he'd drank the previous night. He felt a bit sick to his stomach, and more than a little confused about what was next. Instinctively the first thing he did was reach for his phone. As he suspected, the previous day hadn't been a dream. His phone informed him, that yes, it was still the middle of the week, and no, Harry hadn't texted him. 

Louis tried to stifle all of the parts of him that wanted to break because of those facts. He couldn't do it. He couldn't be a functioning adult today. There was just no way he was going to make it to classes. 

What hadn't Harry texted him? 

Harry always texted him. He always overcompensated apologies so Louis wasn't sure why this time would be any different. He felt a strangely chilling emptiness in his chest as he considered everything. Maybe Harry shouldn't be apologizing? Maybe it was all Louis' fault. It was more than likely, but Louis didn't really want to consider it. He wasn't really to be transported back to the previous night. He didn't want to think about the things Harry had been trying to tell him.

Instead of allowing himself to dwell on what had happened the previous night, he tried to think about something else. He listened to Zayn’s quiet whisper, coming from the kitchen area where he was perched on a chair, facing the floor with his phone pressed to his ear. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice was soft, insecurity laced between his hushed words. Louis got the feeling that ‘sorry’ wasn’t a feeling that Zayn did often (or well). He probably thought that Louis was still asleep and was keeping his voice down for his benefit as he furthered his words, “I didn’t, like, mean that stuff I said. You’re my best mate and I’m stressed,”

There was a long pause and Louis wished he could hear the words from the other end, but he had a strong feeling he knew who was on the other side of the phone call. 

“Sure?” asked Zayn, his voice more relaxed now, “I don’t need to grovel some more?” there was a slight smile on his lips as he said the words. 

He waited for, presumably Liam, to finish his words and then spoke again.

“Haven’t slept yet, no,” he started, laughing for real this time, his smile breaking through in a way that Louis had yet to see. His dark eyes looked about a decade younger with the expression and it looked good on him. Maybe he and Liam weren’t as fucked up as Louis had originally thought, because he’d never seen Zayn smile like that for someone else. “Don’t flatter yourself,” his said, voice light and fond in a way that made Louis’ lips curl up slightly. “Come over, I sleep better when you’re here anyway,” Zayn looked down at the floor while he listened to Liam and then said, “good. Fucking exhausted. See you soon.”

He ended the call and then looked up to meet Louis’ eyes. Louis felt himself flush a bit, worried that Zayn would be upset that he’d peered into what was probably intended to be a private conversation. 

Instead, though, Zayn got to his feet, narrowing his eyes at Louis, “tell anyone what you just heard and I’ll deny it to my death,”

Louis sputtered a laugh as he sat up on the couch and made room for Zayn to sit next to him. Zayn eyed him up as he got comfortable, “how are you feeling?” he asked cautiously. 

Louis shrugged, he wasn’t used to sharing his feelings with Zayn yet, so he was hesitant, “bit rough, if I’m honest. That brandy probably did me in,”

Zayn humoured him with a laugh but then brought his focus back to the place that made Louis uncomfortable, “but really, how are you feeling emotionally and all that,”

Again, Louis just shrugged. He wasn’t really even sure what he was feeling. Harry’s silence was leaving a really awful burn in his stomach that had nothing to do with all the brandy. He also couldn’t decide if he was still mad or if he could maybe use Zayn’s outburst on Liam as a distraction. Maybe he could pretend Harry hadn’t been straight to the point enough. Maybe he could still salvage things and pretend like he had no real idea what was going on. 

But his emotional incompetence could only get him so far, because regardless of whether or not Harry had said it point-blank, Louis was about 90% certain he’d understood the premise of the conversation. He didn’t want to, but he got it. He didn’t want Harry to feel how he felt…but it felt like there was no real way to go back on it now. 

Poor Harry. 

Louis had idolized Harry into perfection, but maybe he’d been overlooking a lot of things. Harry was a lovely and wonderful person, but there had to be something that was more than just a touch broken inside of him if he’d managed to misplace his feelings toward Louis. Louis was a fucking mess and Harry should have wanted a million better things for himself. There had to be something seriously wrong with his self worth if Louis was as high as he was willing to aim. 

“You could fix it, you know,” Zayn noted, scratching at his beard. 

“I seriously doubt that,”

Zayn sighed in what felt like annoyance, “Harry thinks you’re the reason the world spins, so I feel pretty confident that you have options here.” he paused a minute, seeming to stare at the front door, as if hoping it was going to fly open at any second, when it didn’t, he continued his thought. “To me, the most obvious one would be to just bloody tell him its mutual and ride off into the sunset,” he glanced at Louis who was now shaking his head back and forth, “but since I also understand what it’s like to be in the world’s most fucked up in-love-with-my-best-mate situation, you also have the option to apologize for how you reacted and then you can both just go back to pretending that being friends is enough,” Zayn shrugged with the words. 

“I don’t want to date, Harry,”

Zayn didn’t even try to make his eye roll less obvious, “right. And I totally don’t want to shag Liam every time he walks through that door. I get it. We’re in denial. Glad to have a mate with me here in Egypt.”

 

…

 

It had taken ages for his driver to arrive at Zayn’s and Louis had sat downstairs waiting, wanting to avoid whatever was happening with Liam and Zayn. Louis had a million things running through his head, but he wasn’t really ready to think about any of them. He had three classes to attend that day, but Louis was more interested in anything _but_ participating in his life. He wanted to curl up in bed and obsessively check his phone in hopes that he’d just missed a text from Harry. 

Sure, he was pretty aware that he could send Harry a message just as easily, but he still wasn’t sure what he wanted out of everything. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to acknowledge anything. He wasn’t sure if he was sorry or if he was right about the whole thing. He didn’t want to have to deal with it and it didn’t feel fair (this was a trend he was noticing in his life). 

The worst part of it all, though, was that Harry had picked him up the previous night in the middle of a near meltdown. He’d plucked Louis right out of a horrible place, and now he had to go back to it. Now he had to go back to his house and the memory of his mother’s words. He’d have to sit there in his room with more added problems to think about. He wasn’t really ready for that, but he also didn’t think that going to school was a real option. Maybe he’d just go home and try to force himself to catch up on the sleep he’d missed at Zayn’s. He certainly didn’t want to keep thinking about everything else. 

 

When Louis got back to his house, he walked around the back and opened the door as softly as he could. He certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with his family. Everything was messy and he really didn't know how to approach any of it. The last thing he needed was a reminder of how shit he was. 

He took a few steps in and everything was silent. It was half passed 10, so his siblings were mostly likely already at school and Dan would have been at work. His mother worked from home, so she was likely somewhere, so he walked as quietly as he could toward the stairs. 

It was only half a second before he heard his mother's voice. 

"Louis," was the only word she said, but there was venom. She said his name like an accusation. 

He couldn't do it. Her words from the previous day were just too fresh in his mind. He couldn't deal with it. He walked faster toward the stairs. 

"Louis William." Her voice was more firm this time. She didn't appreciate being ignored. Louis didn't care, though. He was definitely not doing this. Not on the heels of everything she said, of everything Harry had said. He was being crushed with disappointment and he wasn't going to deal with it. He refused. 

He got to the stairs right as she came up behind him. 

"Where were you last night? You didn't come home. You have to stop doing that."

She didn't have to say anything more for him to know what she meant. He'd spent the night trying to recover from a bloody emotion crisis, but just like the time he'd tried to kill himself she was too fucking blind to see what was really happening. She blamed drugs for everything. 

His blood was boiling. It was like he was at the end of a very quickly fraying rope. How many fucking times was everyone going to lie to him? Nothing was better. Nothing was getting better. Everything was just as messy as it had always been and the only thing that had changed was him. The world wasn't going to start seeing him differently, though. He was doomed to live in his spiral. 

"You can't keep going on like this, Louis. Your poor sister is convinced you're better and I just don't have the heart to keep reminding her."

He'd only made it up two stairs during her sentence, but once he heard her words, he whipped his head around. Who the fuck was this woman? How was there any possible way they shared DNA? 

"Reminding her of what?"

"That you have a problem. That you're just going to let her down, same as you've done her whole life."

What an idiot Louis was for ever thinking that there could possibly be something more between him and his mother. It was doomed to be as it always had been. She’d never see the good in him, and aside from that, after he’d hurt the only person in the world he’d ever truly wanted to never hurt, he wasn’t even sure there _was_ any good in him. Louis was fucked. Utterly fucked and Terri and Lottie and everyone who had _ever_ given him a glimmer of hope were wrong. It was cruel. How dare they dangle the idea that he was entitled to any of it in front of him?

He wanted to scream. He wanted to be able to yell at his mother that, _thanks very much_ he didn’t have a problem and that he wasn’t letting Lottie down and that he hadn’t let her down her entire life because it wasn’t possible given the fact that his mother had always kept them at a distance. He wanted to yell at her that she was blind and that she was most of the reason he’d so badly wanted—maybe still—to die. He wanted to unleash a rage on her like nothing she’d ever seen before. 

But he wasn’t that person. He wasn’t strong. When faced with adversity, as he had his entire life, Louis crumpled. He was the type of person who cringed at a raised fist, not the type of person capable of raising his in return. 

He shrunk against her words and with nothing more than a shake of his head, he made to continue climbing the stairs. 

“When’s it going to end, Louis? When are you going to stop letting us down? You can’t keep going on like this. You’re going to kill yourself.”

Ha.

Ha. Ha.

Fuck, she was blind and Louis was so, _so,_ out of there. He practically ran to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. 

It didn’t take long for the breakdown to hit. He fell back against his closed door. Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fuck it _all_. Louis’ life was a mess, it had always been a mess and he was a fucking fool to think that a couple of clueless people could make that different. 

It wasn’t fair, though, was it? Harry had betrayed everything Louis had given him. He’d told him _everything._ He knew more about Louis than he’d ever imagined telling someone and Louis had just kept going. Kept allowing himself to get closer because having any part of Harry for any limited amount of time was supposed to be _worth it._ It was supposed to surpass the fact that he’d known it wasn’t going to be permanent. Harry wasn’t supposed to turn things around and ask him for even more in return. He wasn’t supposed to have _feelings_ for Louis of all the people in the world. Harry could have had anyone. Anyone at all, but he’d fucked it all up and asked Louis. Louis didn’t know what it was like to be in a real relationship. He hadn’t even had a real friendship until he was twenty. What kind of person asked someone like him for more? What on earth did that make Harry?

The only sort of relationship that Louis knew how to handle was the one where he was an outlet. The one where he forgot that the word ‘no’ was ever an option and the kind where he bent to someone else’s will. The kind where he laid on stained dirty hotel mattresses and cried against he pain of being hate-fucked into the wee hours of the morning. The kind where when he finally gave up on sleep, he snuck quietly into the bathroom to attempt to scrape layers of his skin off in hopes that at least some of the shame would go with it. 

He wasn’t sure what it was Harry wanted, but it had to be something more than that. There was no way that someone like Louis could give someone like Harry the things he needed. 

And aside from that, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted that. If he could _ever_ want that. He was still too focused on just making it through each day. It just wasn’t fair that Harry wanted more. 

...

 

Louis woke up to a quiet knock on his door. He was more than a little tempted to ignore it by falling back to sleep but there was a stupid amount of hope fluttering in his stomach. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but the idea that it could be Harry just kept flickering in the back of his mind. He didn't like this. He didn't like the feeling of dread that sat along side the burning _hope_  that it was Harry. He wanted Harry to talk to him. He wanted Harry to apologize and explain to him that he'd understood it all wrong. That Harry hadn't been talking about THEM when he'd mentioned the idea of relationships. That he hadn't been ready to kiss Louis in that pool. That he hadn't been asking Louis for more than he knew how to give. 

"Louis?" It was Lottie. Her voice sounded short. 

Louis reached for his phone and he was  _not_ stifling disappointment at the fact that he didn't have a single text. He'd managed to sleep most of the day away without having to think about his problems. It was a solid win. Maybe he could make a habit out of comas. 

He really didn't want to talk to Lottie. He wasn't sure what kind of person that made him. He tossed his phone aside and rolled back over, pulling his duvet over his head.  

"Louis!" Her voice was firmer this time and he heard her try to turn the doorknob. Thankfully he'd locked it, half expecting his mother to march up the stairs after him (she hadn't, of course, because that would require actually giving a fuck).

"Louis open the bloody door," Lottie demanded. 

How long was he actually going to be able to avoid her? If he were just able to fall back to sleep, he'd probably be able to achieve that much easier. He pressed his eyelids closed and hoped that shear will-power was enough to put him to sleep. 

It wasn't though. 

Her knock came again. "Jesus Christ, Louis, suicidal people don't get to lock themselves in a room, not respond and then expect others not the freak out. Open the bloody door or I'm getting the key from mum."

Louis groaned loudly, "sod off, Lots, would you?"

"Let me in," her voice was calm and even. 

Begrudgingly, Louis whipped off his duvet and stomped from his bed to the door. He turned the lock and opened the door in a huff. 

"What?" He demanded. 

Lottie responded by narrowing her eyes at him, "what are you doing in here?" She pushed him back and made her way into his room, looking around suspiciously. 

"Sleeping." Louis hissed. 

"Christ, no wonder you're so salty." 

"What do you want?" Louis said as he made his way back to his bed, the only sort of sanctuary he'd found in the last 20 or so hours of utter internal chaos. 

"Hmm," she said and the sarcasm was heavy in her tone, "I don't know. A fucking explanation, maybe? You didn't come home last night and the past still dictates to me that that is a bad sign. Are things bad again?"

"I'm fine," he huffed, pulling his blankets up. 

Lottie made some kind of feral sound as she reached out and ripped the covers off of Louis. She narrowed her eyes at him, "you have to _talk_ to me, else I can't fix it."

"There's nothing to fix." Louis said as he rolled over, so he was facing the opposite way of her. 

"Did you spend the night at Harry's? Did something happen?"

Did something happen? Ha. Lottie couldn't possibly understand just how loaded that question was. He didn't really know the answer. Had something happened? Or had he just reacted completely wrong? Was there even really something to be so worked up about? He wasn't really sure what it was that a normal person would have done in his position. 

"Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Tried that once," she argued and he felt her crawling into bed behind him, "it almost didn't end well for you if you recall. There's not a chance in hell I’m letting you fend for yourself again. You're terrible at it.”

Louis sighed heavily. 

“Tell me what happened.” She pressed. “You left with Harry yesterday and now you’re pouting. Something happened.”

“Just leave it,” Louis practically begged. 

“I don’t want to, though,” Lottie argued skillfully, “I like Harry. I don’t want thing to go bad with him.”

“Then why don’t you go bother him?”

“Because I’m not the one who sucks at dating him.”

“For fucks sake,” Louis growled, rolling off the opposite side of the bed, “for the hundredth time, Charlotte, I am _not_ trying to date Harry. Harry is my _friend_. That’s it. That’s the end of the story.”

Louis slammed his bathroom door and locked Lottie out. He didn’t want to deal with her. She was too young to understand what was even going on. She didn’t understand how things worked in the real world, and as much as he cared about his little sister, it was the truth. He wanted to be able to have serious conversations about his life with her, because the thing was, he did trust her. She was consistently there for him in all the ways that he never imagined a member of his family could be, but there was too much of an age disconnect. There was too much that she didn’t understand. He wished there was some way they could bridge that gap, but it seemed unlikely. 

 

…

 

Louis wasn’t stupid, was the thing. He knew when he was making a bad decision. He was always aware of it. Even though he knew it was wrong, there was something inside of him that just couldn’t stop breaking. Some sort of him that felt an addiction to the pain of it all. Sometimes, when things were too calm and easy, he felt it calling him. And now? Now that things were fucked up with Harry and he felt like the world was crumbling around him?

Well, it seemed perfectly obvious why he was driving down some sketchy back street, looking for a house with the number 61 on it, trying to find Matt sitting on the front porch like he’d said he’d be. He hadn’t seen Matt since the day with Harry. Matt hadn’t so much as texted him since that day, and before things went to hell with Harry, Louis had been perfectly okay with that. Now though? Now he needed to think about something other than how badly confused he felt. About something other than how much he _missed_ Harry. It hadn’t even been a full day since he’d walked out of Harry’s bedroom like a coward without settling a single thing and he was still falling apart. He needed something to remind him of the person he was. He needed to fall into a spiral that _he_ could control. One that _he_ chose. 

He pulled to the side of the road when he saw Matt’s figure. Immediately, Matt was on his feet and headed for Louis’ car. 

“Long time, no see.” he commented as he dropped into the passenger’s seat. 

Louis nodded slowly, shifting the car into gear once the passenger’s door was closed. He didn’t know what to say. He barely even knew what he was doing anymore. “Do you need anything?” he asked. 

“I need lots of things,” said Matt. 

Louis glance at him and saw the bags under his eyes and the defeat on his face. He was falling apart and Louis hadn’t had any part in it, but it felt like it was entirely his fault. 

“Whatever you need,” Louis’ words came automatically, because that was always the way it went. Matt took what he needed and Louis pretended that it was enough to fix him. 

 

…

 

Matt had been staying in a foreclosed house across town for the past week or so, and something inside of Louis ached with this knowledge. Matt never had money—that wasn’t something that was new. What was new was the fact that he wasn’t even trying to take care of himself. He’d been sleeping on floors next to who knew how many other squatters. It really seemed to Louis that he was giving up. Now that he didn’t have someone else to take care of him, Matt hadn’t even tried to learn how to take care of himself. The guilt was heavy in the pit of Louis’ stomach. It was a huge cross to bare.

Louis had rented a room in a hotel that they had frequented through the years. There was something to be said about being distracted by Matt’s chaos. It was always thorough and Louis knew that a few hours of Matt’s company would distract him from the nagging loneliness that he was still harbouring in his heart. He didn’t like it. He hadn’t known what to do when Harry had made him feel _good_ and now that he was faced with such a bleak and heavy feeling, he wasn’t sure what to do with that either. Things felt bad inside of him and it felt easier to give someone else the spotlight. 

Louis was sitting on the bed, his legs pulled up and tucked neatly underneath him. Matt was in the washroom, maybe shooting up, maybe cleaning up. Louis wasn’t sure. His phone had vibrated in his pocket and it was causing a fit of anxiety in his stomach. He wanted it to be Harry—but he also wanted it to be anybody but Harry. He couldn’t stand the silence, but when Harry had been talking, that had been worse hadn’t it? Were they going to get past this or was this the end of the line for them now? After everything Harry had given to him and after all that Louis had tried to give in return—the tiny fragmented pieces of his broken soul—was that it? Louis didn’t give Harry the answer he wanted and now he was done? After 20 years of waiting for anything even close to Harry, it was all gone, just like that? It didn’t seem fair. None of the options seemed fair, and even though that was a major trend in Louis’ life, it still burned in the back of his throat as he tried to swallow against the wave of nausea. 

He pulled the phone out of his pocket.

**_Zayn_.**

Louis might have known that it wasn’t Harry. That it might not ever get to be Harry again. Maybe he’d fucked it up beyond apology—and aside from that, he still wasn’t sure who owed whom an apology. 

Louis slid Zayn’s name and unlocked the phone. 

**_Zayn: Have you talked to Harry yet?_ **

What kind of question was that? Zayn must have known better. They’d spent the entire night ‘not talking about Harry’ which had basically lead to their entire conversation being about nothing other than Harry. Most of it was indirect because Zayn had enough skill to know that Louis wasn’t _really_ going to talk to him about anything. He had a fantastic way about drawing parallels between he and Liam and Louis’ own situation. 

There wasn’t really a parallel, though, because Zayn and Liam had slept together. On multiple occasions. There were things between them that couldn’t possibly leave one party completely in the dark.

Louis was completely in the dark. He still was because there was still the nagging possibility in the back of his mind that maybe he’d misunderstood the whole thing. It didn’t make sense for Harry to feel the way it seemed like he felt. Harry was smart—too smart to ever go for someone like Louis. Maybe Louis was just being self-centred. Maybe it had absolutely nothing to do with _them._ Maybe it was one friend asking advice about someone else entirely. That was possible, wasn’t it?

His phone vibrated in his palm again as Zayn sent another message. 

**_Zayn: Spent the day with Li. I didn’t talk to him either…_ **

A second later he sent another message. 

**_Zayn: For real though…I talked to Harry, so if you don’t want to be in Egypt with me anymore, I could fill you in._ **

Louis barely processed the words on the screen before his thumb migrated to the lock button. The screen went black, because, no, Louis most certainly did not want Zayn to fill him in. He wanted to live the rest of his life in ignorance if it meant he could avoid this thing with Harry. He just wanted it to be normal again. 

He heard the bathroom door open and saw Matt standing in the doorway. His hair was wet and he looked exhausted, but he didn’t look high. He looked like the shower had washed away some of the chaos of the last few weeks that Louis hadn’t been involved in. He looked clean and like there was some sort of clarity within him. Maybe there wasn’t, but it was better than the dirty, run-down kid Louis had picked up from that abandoned house earlier on. Maybe Louis _did_ help. Maybe he _did_ give something to Matt. 

Matt sat down on the bed next to Louis. His arm brushed against Louis’, the wet skin sticking slightly to Louis. Matt wasn’t saying anything, but there was a prickle running down Louis’ spine. He couldn’t help it. It was always how he reacted to things. Sure, there were a lot of moments that Louis could look back on fondly with Matt. There were a lot of moments that he’d created. A lot of what went on between them was of his own creating. Above all the other pain in his life, Louis had learned to crave Matt in a way that maybe was the furthest thing from healthy, but there was something to be said about forgetting. For the split second that Matt rode him toward their orgasms where Louis forgot. Where he got lost in bliss in a way that he’d never known. Maybe the path there wasn’t something that most people chose to take, but he’d come to crave it. Matt had laid everything out for him. He’d tell Louis why he was shit. His mother never dignified him with an explanation. She’d just hated him without a word, and even though Matt’s hatred was something else completely, it brought Louis to the place where he could forget—and maybe sometimes he needed that. Maybe sometimes he deserved that. Everyone needed a break, didn’t they?

“I was thinking,” Matt’s voice came quietly, his fingers slowly trickling down Louis’ forearm until they came to his phone. Matt picked it up carefully, not even bothering to glance and see who the texts were from, before he put it on an end table. He wound his fingers through Louis and held his hand fast, “that maybe I was wrong.”

Louis’ voice was weak. It was always weak around Matt. He so rarely used it that it came out as a croak, “about what?” he asked carefully.

“About trying to control you. About _us.”_

This was never safe. He could remember a time, after Harry had happened when he was sitting in a different hotel room, with Matt pouring apologies all over him just to turn it all around. If the past had any bearing on the future, then Louis knew exactly where this was going to go. 

Sour.

Things were going to go sour and he was going to have to take it, because he was the one who’d called Matt. He’d driven across town, picked him up and locked himself in a hotel room. Even as the fear prickled across his skin he knew that there had to be some part of him, still, that craved this. That wanted whatever it was Matt was about to give him. 

“I shouldn’t have gone to Harry,” he said and his voice was soft, “but I felt like I didn’t have a choice. Like I was losing you, and I don’t want that. I never wanted that. I mean…” Matt was hesitating and Louis had never seen this before, had never felt a burning sort of sincerity behind Matt’s words, “I know that maybe it sounds wrong to say after some of the things I’ve done, but, I care about you. I always have. I can’t imagine having this,” he squeezed Louis’ hand tighter then, “with someone else. You’re the only person I ever trusted not to let me down.”

Louis bit his lip and stared at the burgundy carpet, “and then I let you down,”

Matt shook his head, “no, me. I let _you_ down. I never knew how bad it was. I never saw it because I was too busy worrying about how bad _I_ was. I never saw you hurting and I didn’t know it had gotten that bad. That you wanted to die and…I let you down.”

There was a long silence that passed between them.

“We chose each other, though,” Matt said finally, “and, like, there has to be a reason, right? It’s always been you, Louis. Please tell me you didn’t choose someone else?”

There was an iceberg currently being housed in Louis’ stomach. It was salty and cold and Louis felt like more and more of it was melting and soon he was going to have to throw up because the sea level was rising inside of him. There was too much. Too much for him to handle. 

“But I’m telling you this now, Louis, and I know I haven’t always been good. That I haven’t always been right and that I’ve let my problems dictate things for us too often, but like, we could just _be,_ you know? We could just be us and we could leave all that other shit behind. Your family, my shit, just fuck it all, you know? We could go to London, we could get a place. We could be okay, Louis. I’d be okay if I got to have you.”

_What?_

“Fuck if I don’t know it might be too late to ask you for that, but I’m asking. I’m asking _you._ I think that’s a step in the right direction, don’t you? We don’t talk about this stuff, not like we should, but I’m _asking._ ” Louis couldn’t quite be sure, but it sounded like Matt was breaking, “there’s been so many things that other people have taken from me without asking. My whole life I just got tossed from place to place and they just kept fucking with me. All these guys, they kept taking and taking and they never asked me, you know? They just snuck into my room and they took it. They took me, all these parts of me and it wasn’t okay. I was never okay—but you—you were always the only person who never tried to take from me and I’m sorry because I think I took a lot of you when I was trying to find me—but I’m done. I just want this. I don’t want to lose you to some other guy just because he’s _nicer._ You picked me, Louis. I picked you. We could be okay. I could love you.”


	18. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just got back from yet another trip to Toronto. I literally feel like I haven't been at home at all for the past month. I got to see my bestie, though, and we planned a lot of things for this story, so get ready for lots more!!
> 
> I am in a mad writing frenzy right now. I imagine the next chapter should come along within the week. 
> 
> I listened to The Grace by The Neverending White Lights a lot while writing this and it is a very "Louis" kind of song, so 10/10 you should listen.

Louis pressed the home button on his phone for the millionth time since he’d settled into the bed. Time was moving impossibly slow and he couldn’t be sure why. It was still only 4:48. The last time he’d checked it, it had been 4:48. Maybe time had stopped. Maybe he was stuck in some strange time warp with Matt and his life wasn’t going to move on. He’d be stuck in this night forever, and of all the nights he’d had with Matt, maybe this wasn’t the worst one to be stuck in. Things weren’t messy. He hadn’t even noticed Matt shoot up. He was probably far from sober, Louis wasn’t dumb enough to expect anything less, but he had been kind. It wasn’t like the typical nights they spent together. 

But still, something inside of Louis felt wrong. He hadn’t said anything to Matt that night. He’d just let things play out. The words were fresh in his mind, but he didn’t want to think about them. About what they meant. Harry. Matt. When did this become a part of his life? When did people start asking him for more? He could remember Matt’s words to Harry that day in Starbucks _“You can’t fix someone like Louis, you know. He doesn’t get it. He’ll never get it.”_

Maybe Matt was right. Maybe Louis would never get it. They were both doing it though, both asking him for things he didn’t know how to give. This time was different, though. He knew what the answer was when it came to Matt. He knew what to expect of Matt and what to expect of himself. He didn’t want the things Matt had mentioned. He knew that wouldn’t work. That they couldn’t just forget about their lives and run away to London and start over. This whole thing between them wasn’t based on trust. It wasn’t based on anything that Matt had mentioned and Louis knew that. The moment Louis didn’t have access to his family’s money was the moment things would go sour. He existed to support Matt’s habit, and Matt existed to help Louis forget. 

He’d do well to remember that things between them were nothing more and nothing less. 

He pressed the home button again. 4:49. 

He unlocked the screen and pulled up his conversation with Zayn. 

**_Louis: Honestly, I don’t know what to say to Harry and I’d really prefer if you didn’t fill me in. I haven’t figured anything out._ **

Three dots appeared under Louis’ words almost instantly. Of course Zayn was awake. Bless him. 

**_Zayn: Is there really anything to figure out? Where are you anyway? Want to come to mine? We could enjoy insomnia together._ **

**_Louis: I’m with a friend…_ **

**_Zayn: Most popular mole child in town, I reckon._ **

Louis smiled down at his phone. Zayn had a way of making him feel closer to normal than he usually felt. He wished he was spending the night curled up on Zayn’s couch and not trying to stay quiet next to Matt. 

Just thinking that probably gave him all the answers he needed. 

But Matt had been so good. He couldn’t reward that sort of thing by just sneaking out on him, could he? He didn’t know what was going on inside of his head at all. 

He backed out of his texts with Zayn and opened the conversation with Harry. He wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure what he would say, wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. What was the protocol for this sort of thing? What was he supposed to say to his best friend, the most important person in his life who had given him nothing but light and hope and then turned around and asked him for too much? Who was even to blame here? Was he meant to take the high road and apologize first? _Sorry I can’t feel the same about you?_ Was that what he was supposed to say? It didn’t seem like enough. It didn’t seem like the sort of apology Harry was likely to accept. 

Before he thought about it, Louis started to type out a message. 

**_I’m sorry…_ **

Instantly, as he stared at the words, they felt insignificant. They weren’t enough. Nothing he could think of was enough. He erased them and tried to think of something better to say. 

**_I miss you._ **

He saw Zayn’s text at the top of his screen and opened it, wanting to escape the pressure in his gut at trying to think of something adequate to say to Harry. 

**_Zayn: Harry’s upset, just so you know. I don’t think he understands and come to think about it, I don’t understand either. What are you scared of?_ **

**_Louis: I don’t actually want to talk about that._ **

**_Zayn: Well, you’re going to have to, unless you plan on avoiding him for the rest of your life._ **

He sent another message before Louis could respond.

**_Zayn: And if that’s your plan, I’m going to have to judge you thoroughly and expressly not support that idea. I mean, Liam and I are fucked up, but I still talk to him, so. You know. Don’t ignore him for the rest of your life. That would be a dick move._ **

Louis flicked back to his conversation with Harry. He stared at the keyboard. He didn’t want this to last. He didn’t want to let the silence between them linger for longer. He didn’t want to lose Harry because he didn’t understand. He didn’t want Matt to be right. He wanted to understand it and he wanted to be able to fix it. The thing was, though, even if he understood what it was Harry was asking of him, he still didn’t understand _why._

Maybe he could ask Harry. Maybe if he knew why it was him over every other possibility out there, he could fix things. 

Louis nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw three dots appear at the bottom of his screen. Harry was typing. Somewhere in the city at nearly 5 in the morning (on a night before classes) Harry was awake and he had their conversation pulled up and he had something to say. Hope fluttered in Louis’ chest, and he knew it wasn’t fair. That it was a cop out to let Harry fix this all on his own. Louis should have known what to say. He shouldn’t leave it up to Harry, but Harry always knew what to say. Even in the middle of the night he was doing a better job than Louis at fixing things. 

Louis waited for what felt like an eternity for the dots to disappear, but when they did there was no message. Harry hadn’t sent anything. He had left Louis on the edge of his seat, waiting for things to get better, but he hadn’t actually said a word. He had said just as much as Louis had and the emptiness he felt in his chest at that realization was almost enough for him to tap out some kind of message, _anything_ just to bridge the gap because there wasn’t supposed to _be_ a gap. Not between him and Harry because things were supposed to be good with Harry. Good in all the ways that things had never been good with anyone else. It wasn’t fair. 

It especially wasn’t fair that Louis didn’t know where to put the blame. He didn’t know who’s fault any of this was. 

It was probably his because maybe he was supposed to be able to understand better. Maybe he was supposed to be able to feel things for real and not be completely useless with all kinds of emotions. 

And besides all that, why? Why didn’t he just feel things for Harry? Why couldn’t he? What was so badly broken inside of him that it didn’t even seem possible for him to feel that?

He stared down at his phone just as the screen faded and locked again. Harry had wanted to say something to him. Had tried to type it out but hadn’t sent it. For some reason it hurt Louis that harry couldn’t just say what he wanted to say. He didn’t really have the right to take such offence to it, though, because he had done the exact same thing. He had tried to think of something—anything—that would fill the spaces between them, but nothing had come. 

Surely that meant that even though it felt like it wasn’t, it was probably all Louis’ fault. He’d probably ruined everything between them. 

He put the phone back down on the sheets, staring over at Matt. He was fast sleep, and even the fact that Louis hadn’t been able to sleep at all hadn’t woken him. There was a very sudden sense of panic in Louis’ gut because _he didn’t want this._ Whatever it had been Matt had asked him for, he didn’t want it. He didn’t want anything with Matt aside from distractions and chaos. He didn’t want to try to fall asleep next to him. Maybe Louis didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew it wasn’t this. It wasn’t Matt. 

It couldn’t be Matt when he’d spent the entire night just trying to think of something to say to _Harry_. This wasn’t the place he belonged. He might not ever know where he did belong, but he felt pretty certain it wasn’t here. 

Louis’ heart jumped into his throat when he felt his phone vibrate again. _Harry._ He must have finally found something to say. 

Louis picked up his phone and tried to not drown in his disappointment when he saw Zayn’s name on the screen. 

Still, amidst the panic in his chest, he opened the conversation and read Zayn’s words. 

**_Zayn: For what it’s worth, I get it, you know? I get being in a fucked up place and trapped by bad timing and maybe Harry’s timing was kind of awful, but are you really not willing to forgive that? Do you really not think the time will ever be right? You don’t want to wait for it to be right?_ **

 

…

 

Let it be known that Louis Tomlinson was a coward. He had always been a coward for as long as he could remember. So it really wasn’t surprising that instead of facing the millions of things he was afraid of (in that moment being Harry and Matt’s feelings), he had chosen to sneak away from it all. He’d left the hotel before Matt had woken up. He’d done the same thing that he’d done a million times before, leaving behind a pile of money and paying off the room. 

The thing was that he didn’t want to hurt Matt. He’d never wanted to hurt him, and while he wasn’t really able to decided whether or not that was a mutual feeling (because Matt always seemed perfectly okay with hurting Louis), it was still the truth. Even though he was beyond certain that Matt’s desperate plea that they run away together was the furthest thing from what he wanted, he still didn’t want to have to _tell_ him that. He didn’t want to look him in the eyes and tell him that even after all the years they’d spent together and all the shit they’d been though that he wasn’t enough. Matt would never be enough.

And Louis didn’t even know what enough was. 

Everything was fucked, which was kind of the normal state of affairs in Louis’ life. He’d spent most of the night driving around and trying to avoid Zayn, lest he take his words into consideration and actually find out he was right. Louis didn’t want that. He wanted someone unbiased to be able to tell him exactly what he was supposed to do. He kind of needed Terri and he wasn’t even going to see her until tomorrow after his classes were done. 

He was parked around the back of the property, aimlessly walking around the stables. It was mid-morning by then and he knew his siblings were nowhere to be found, and while he might run into a staff member, they’d mostly just ignore him and he could have the illusion that he was alone. 

Even though being alone had been the norm for most of his life, there was something darker about it now. Now that he’d come so close to the light, he wasn’t quite able to see things the way he once had. He wasn’t quite able to settle for it, and that burned. He wanted to be okay on his own. It was all he ever had and he hated that he’d let Harry change that in him. He hated that he’d come to crave their sort of companionship. 

He was supposed to be in bio lecture in an hour, but he wasn’t going. Not after he’d seen Harry last night trying to come up with something to say to him and then failing. If even Harry didn’t know what to say, how was he ever supposed to know? Maybe things between them weren’t salvageable. Maybe it was time that he started to adjust to the feeling of darkness again. 

He could do it. He could handle it. It was what he knew. Even if he took Harry out of the equation, things were still better than they had been. He was still sober. He still had Lottie and he still had Terri. Sure, Zayn would probably leave, too, because he was really just an extension of things with Harry, and that was fine. Louis could get through it. He’d been fine before. He just had to remember how he’d done it. 

 

…

 

Louis had managed to go completely unnoticed for the entire day. He’d slept for most of it, waking intermittently to check his phone (which never had any notifications). He was awake now, just passed six and he could hear his family downstairs having dinner. This time when he looked at his phone he had a text from Zayn. He hadn’t answered Zayn’s last message the previous night, because apparently Louis was giving up and deciding to suck in every friendship he had. Maybe the worst part of it all was that Matt hadn’t even reached out to him. He hadn’t even been surprised that Louis had ducked out, because that’s what cowards did, and Louis was a coward.

**_Zayn: You and Harry both ditched bio. You should have just hung out with him. Fixed things, you know?_ **

**_Louis: Not sure how I’d do that, honestly._ **

Zayn responded quickly. 

**_Zayn: Well, I reckon actually talking to him would be a good place to start._ **

Louis wanted to have some kind of witty, off-handed response, but as usual, he had nothing. He put his phone down and stared across the room at his computer. He was kind of falling apart. That kind of qualified as an emergency, didn’t it? He had Terri’s email. He could explain the whole thing to her and maybe she would tell him what to do. He clearly didn’t have a clue on his own…

But she also might say things that he wasn’t really ready to hear. Besides which, he was seeing her the next day, anyway. He could do it. He could make it though one more day without crumbling. 

 

…

 

Louis was standing in front of his mirror trying to make a decision about what to do. He needed to leave for bio within the next ten minutes if he was going to make it there on time. He wasn’t really sure about going to class. He wasn’t sure what seeing Harry would do to things. He knew what he was hoping for, and that was for things to just fall back into place without needing an explanation. 

It wasn’t likely though.

He heard his phone go off then. He picked it up to see Zayn’s name on the screen. Sighing at the fact that, once again, it wasn’t Harry, he opened the message. 

**_Zayn: Don’t be a coward. Come to class today._ **

The whole thing was stupid. It had gone on for too long. Things _must_ have blown over between  them. Louis wasn’t mad anymore. He couldn’t be. He just missed Harry. He missed things being normal with them. He could do it. He could go to class and could face Harry. How many times had Harry already seen him break? Surely they were going to get past this. 

 

When Louis got to class he forced himself not to hesitate outside of the door. Upon the first glance, his and Harry’s usual spot was empty. Disappointment sunk into his chest at this realization. His gaze climbed to the back of the classroom where Niall, Zayn and Liam normally sat. Harry wasn’t there either. Niall and Liam were sitting up there, though, and it didn’t take long before Niall narrowed his eyes at Louis. Louis’ glance darted away quickly and he walked with his shoulders slumped to his seat. He pulled out his computer, even though he knew even the idea of being able to focus was a total lost cause. His whole body was humming trying to think about what he was going to say when Harry walked through the door. 

He wanted to be able to focus his attention anywhere but the door, but he couldn’t. He kept staring from the clock to the door. The lecture was due to start in 6 minutes and Harry wasn’t there yet. His leg was bouncing up and down uncontrollably while he stared at the door. Zayn appeared in the doorway.. He waved to Louis while he walked passed his row and took a seat next to Liam. 

Harry wasn’t coming. There was no way he was coming because he was never this late. Louis felt nauseated just thinking about it. He’d come to class because he’d been so sure he’d over reacted to the whole thing. He’d been so certain that it had blown over and that he and Harry could salvage their friendship, but he’d been wrong. It was exhausting how often he was wrong about these kinds of things. He really was like a child raised in someone’s basement. He had no idea what was doing. He had no clue how to read a situation. 

 

...

 

"Something's wrong." Terri said before Louis had even flopped onto his bean bag chair. Damn her perceptiveness. 

Louis chose to use a shrug as a response. Terri didn't like that. 

"What happened? You could have emailed me." She sounded hurt. Disappointed that Louis hadn't been brave enough to type out the tale about how everything he'd built with Harry had crumbled in a few short moments that he'd chosen not to say a word in. 

"I'm okay." He wasn't lying, not really. He was pretty okay. Maybe a bit bruised and bit torn in a lot of places, but he didn't really have a right, did he? Harry had confessed all of those things to him and he'd just sat there selfishly thinking about how horrible it was of him to ask for more. 

It hadn't been, though, had it? Looking at it now, Harry had just done the same thing he'd been doing for Louis all along. He'd treated him exactly the way he'd have treated anyone. Wasn't that one of the reasons he'd let himself put Harry up on a pedestal in the first place? He'd been the first person to look passed all the damage in Louis and treat him exactly the same way he would have treated anyone. 

And, while maybe it should have been obvious that Louis wouldn't know what to do with Harry's...crush? (Was that the word for the jumbled misplaced feelings he'd tried to explain to Louis?), maybe it made sense that Harry hadn't stopped to analyze it. That he'd just poured it out for Louis, because to Harry, Louis _was_  a normal, capable human being. 

But Louis had been so willing that morning to take the high road (or the low road--or the same road, or _any_ road, really, as long as it was with Harry), but Harry hadn't shown up. He'd left Louis sitting alone in the class room, shivering from the lack of body heat next to him. Insanely aware that every time he crossed his legs, that he wasn't going to accidentally brush against Harry. He'd been alone his entire life, but for some reason, being alone in that classroom had felt worse than anything before it. 

Because, maybe he wasn't on the _same_  page as Harry, but he was trying to catch up. He was maybe a few chapters behind but, fuck if he wasn't at least reading the same damn book. 

He was  _trying_. He was willing to keep trying but Harry hadn't even bothered to show up. 

Did that make it too late?

"Is it something with Harry?" Terri's voice broke through Louis thoughts and made him suddenly aware of how he was curled in on himself, lost in the thought that maybe he'd lost Harry. Maybe it was too late and Louis would never find someone so willing to see him as an equal. He would never find someone he wanted around as much as he wanted Harry. 

Even if he didn't know what that meant. How deep that went. He wasn't sure of a lot of things, but he was pretty sure he'd fucked it up. 

He was also pretty certain that he couldn't tell Terri. That he couldn't ruin both his relationship with Harry _and_ Terri's opinion of him. Not in the same week. 

"Matt asked me to run away with him. Said he could love me, proper, like."

 _Easy_. 

It was so easy for Louis to deflect anything that got too close to him. 

Just like he'd done with Harry. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck he felt like he was going to be sick all over the carpet in his therapist's office. Poster child for mental health. That was Louis. 

"Like a relationship?" Terri had taken the bate. She had fallen for it. She believed that his turmoil was all to do with Matt. 

"I think."

"But you said you didn't want a relationship."

Louis nodded slowly, mulling over the words. He had said that. He'd assured her of just that and she'd responded by telling him not to rule it out because maybe, some day, someone might ask. 

Louis hadn't expected that she might be right. He also hadn't expected that it would be Harry. Or that it would be Matt. Neither of them made sense, but he didn't even want to tell her there were multiple offers on the table. 

One thing at a time. 

First, he needed to deal with his guilt regarding Matt. 

"Do you want it, now that the offer has presented itself? Does it seem like the right progression, after everything the two of you have been through? Does it feel like you could have a future with him?"

Terri was just indulging him. She had to be, because if she thought he was seriously considering it, she'd probably tell him he was fucked. 

He didn't _need_  her to tell him, though, and that felt significant some how. 

"I left him in a hotel room. I didn't even answer him. I just left."

Terri nodded once, "because there's someone else? Someone better suited for the role?"

Louis shook his head. No. He wasn't going to go through this dance yet again with yet another person. The wounds were still too fresh. 

How dare Harry ask that of him and then not even show up to classes? The hurt ached inside of Louis and he didn't know what that meant, but he knew it wasn't right. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. 

"So, it isn't just Matt then. It isn't just that you know he's bad for you. It's still that you don't trust someone else to be good for you."

"I can't trust Matt. He hates me."

"But what if there was someone you could trust? Would that change things? Would you want that, then?"

"I don't know what I want. How am I supposed to know?"

Slowly Terri exhaled,  not taking her eyes off of Louis, "for me," she started, "it wasn't something I knew how to want. I guess, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I wanted to be married some day, that I wanted to have kids and all the rest of it, but I pushed it aside because I didn't think anyone would want that with me. I didn't think I had anything to offer someone. I was too lost in the bad things around me to even consider it."

Louis swallowed hard, because as much as he'd originally tried to convince himself that he and Terri were vastly different, there were more and more instances where it felt like she was pulling the thoughts right from his head. Louis felt all of those things. Terri had, too, but somehow it had changed. Somehow Terri had turned it around. 

"But you got married."

She nodded, "I did."

"What changed?"

"Honestly?"

Louis nodded once. 

"Me." Terri was firm in her response. "I didn't know how to want those things, but after everything kept falling apart for so long, I finally took control. I fought to be better for me. Not for someone else, because I kind of finally realized that being better for me was more important. That I was worth saving." She paused for a moment, "and I didn't expect it. I didn't expect that when I got better, that when I saw myself more clearly that maybe someone else might see it, too. I mean, I was still I mess when I met him, but he didn't mind. He saw how much better I was getting. How much I was fighting for it." She paused and watched Louis carefully, "I didn't think I was ready for him, but he was ready for me. To show me I was worth it."

Louis nodded once. He wasn't sure if he was there yet. If he was in a place where someone could see the good through the bad, but Terri had gotten there. Maybe he could get there. Maybe he wasn't ready to be so much to someone else, maybe he still didn't have anything to give, but it didn't seem like the most impossible thought in the world. Not anymore. 

"And I think," said Terri, breaking Louis' train of thought, "that the most important thing you should take away from how things worked out for me is that it wasn't about him. It wasn't about him loving me even though I was damaged goods, it's that _I_  loved me, even though I was damaged goods. Sure, having him get me through the rest of it was great, but it wasn't about him loving me 'anyway' or fixing me. It was about me fighting and him falling in love with the person I was just as much as he fell in love with the person I was becoming."

Louis nodded once. 

"No one can 'fix' you, Louis. It's not about that. You can surround yourself with people who build you up, but they can't do that work for you. Everything you've become, it's because you decided to fight for it. Don't ever feel like you need someone else to get you there. It's not about being fixed because someone was brave enough to love you, because frankly, there's nothing to fix. The sooner you see that, the sooner you'll be able to let someone love you."

Louis felt a bit sick to his stomach as he considered her words. He remembered Harry saying something about how he didn't want to fix Louis. About how there was nothing wrong with him in the first place. 

And, oh god, no matter how much Louis had tried to keep Harry out of this conversation, everything was hitting so close to home. Everything just coming back to Harry. Back to how Louis had fucked it all up by not fucking speaking. 

 

...

 

Louis was going to pace a hole straight through the door in his bedroom. He'd been walking back and forth for what felt like hours. It was just past nine and he'd been in a full blown crisis since he'd left Terri's office. 

There were a few things he was certain of: first was that Terri normally knew exactly what she was talking about. As much as he hated to admit to her that she'd been right most of the times they had seen each other, it was a fact. The second thing that he was sure of was that, unlike all of the other times he'd tried to push Harry away, this time it was working and it wasn't for the better like he'd tried to convince himself it would be. It felt less and less like he was doing either of them a favour with his distance. The third thing that Louis was absolutely certain of was that he absolutely did not want this to stretch on indefinitely. He missed Harry and the longer he spent analyzing things, the more confused he was, but no matter how confused he was, he felt wrong. It was pretty obvious that he had made the absolute wrong choice by not talking to Harry. 

The forth thing he felt pretty certain about was that it could pretty well be too late. Maybe Harry was done being pushed away. Maybe without even trying, Louis had found Harry's limit. Louis had been ready to face him, but Harry hadn't shown up. For the first time in his life, Louis had been ready to be brave and actually face his problems, but Harry hadn't shown up. That stung. 

Maybe he should have brought things up to Terri, but he was pretty sick of hearing people tell him things involving Harry. He'd been pretty certain that he understood the nature of things between him and Harry. He'd finally just  accepted that Harry honestly liked him as a person. That he wasn't just hanging around because he felt bad for Louis. It had taken him ages to realize that their friendship had been mutual and Harry had thrown something at him that he hadn't even considered. 

After all the secrets he'd shared with Harry, he wasn't quite sure how he didn't possibly know that Louis was in no way ready to handle something so big and so heavy. He didn't know why it was that Harry could have possibly ever thought that Louis could understand it enough to ever reciprocate. 

And the closer he looked at the whole thing, the more he realized that he'd probably been too blind to the whole thing all along. Everyone had told him. Literally everyone in his life had acted like he and Harry being together in that sort of way was the most normal concept in the world. 

But it wasn't. 

No one had ever wanted that with Louis. He couldn't fathom a single reason in the world why Harry would be any different. 

The very worst part of all, though, was that Louis didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know if he was ever going to know. It felt like yet another impossibility in his messy life. There was so much going on around him that processing this felt like just another thing that was too much. 

The thing was that he knew Harry deserved more. That he deserved someone at least able to able to dignify him with some sort of response. Louis hadn't done that, though, and maybe it was no wonder that this was the one time that Harry hadn't rushed to apologize. Maybe it really was Louis who owed it to him. 

But Louis didn't take risks. Not like this. Not a risk that might leave him standing there like an idiot when Harry didn't accept his apology. 

The other option, of course, was to continue with whatever it was he'd been doing for the last couple of days. He didn't know if he could go back to how things had been before Harry. It had been fine before he knew there was better. Before he knew there was a perfect boy who wanted nothing from him other than his bad jokes, opinions on poetry and companionship. He hadn't known how good it could sometimes be to just be alive. Louis had never in his life had someone who was able to change that for him. He'd be stupid to let that slip away. 

And then there was the other part of it—the part that he hadn't let himself think about since he'd left Harry balled up on his bedroom floor in the middle of the picnic he'd made for Louis. He'd spent days trying to avoid thinking of it, but Terri had filled him up with all kinds of thoughts. 

Harry wanted more. He wanted more with _Louis._ It didn’t seem possible. The more and more he let the idea settle around him, the more Louis felt certain that it couldn’t possibly be real. That there couldn’t possibly be someone out there as perfect and wonderful as Harry who wanted to be with a mess like Louis. It didn’t seem right—but he’d _said_ it. He’d said he wanted more, and Louis had to at least _address_ that. He had to at least force himself to think about what that meant. 

But if he addressed Harry’s feelings for him, he’d have to address more. He’d have to stop ignoring the sick feeling he got in his stomach when Harry’s eyes crinkled up at one of Louis’ bad jokes or the flutter that happened in his chest when Harry’s dimples popped while he smiled proper at Louis while he was reading poetry. He’d also have to think about how strange it was that he always felt goosebumps down his spine when Harry took his hand. About how best friends maybe didn’t snuggle the way he and Harry did, and about how, on that first day they’d ever met, Harry had referred to him as ‘cheekbones’ and that was maybe a little bit flirtatious? He’d also have to think about the fact that the first million times he’d seen Harry smile at something he’d said, he’d just about burned up with the way his face flushed. 

Yeah. 

Those were about a million things that Louis didn’t want to think about—not yet. Not _never,_ just, not yet. 

First, he needed to be sure that there was still going to be a boy in his life that could make him (maybe, one day) want to address those things. 

First, he needed to at least talk to Harry. Fuck his pride. Fuck his fear. Fuck all of that, because it was useless anyway. It was useless when Harry had literally seen him at all of his worst moments and stayed anyway. 

That had to count for something. 

So, against the overwhelming ball of ice that had taken over his stomach (and most of his chest), he pulled on a jumper and picked up his keys and snuck down the back staircase. Harry would be at work, and he was due to finish at 10, which meant Louis had just enough time to get there and force him to talk. He stifled the feeling of needing to vomit, because, nope, that wasn’t going to help at all.

 

…

 

Since Louis was maybe on record as the most unlucky human being to grace the earth, when he pulled into the Starbucks parking lot, he immediately noticed a familiar blue civic parked directly in front of the entrance. Damn him and his stupidly fancy car and the fact that there as no way that the boisterous blonde man in the civic next to him wouldn’t guess exactly who he was here to see. Louis had barely shifted into park when he saw the driver’s side door to the civic open. Niall didn’t hesitate for a minute when he got out of his car. He was knocking on Louis’ window straight away. 

Louis swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat, remembering the look on Niall’s face when he’d realized just what he’d walked into two nights ago. The anger that had burned behind his blue eyes at the realization, that after everything Harry had done for Louis amidst all of the warnings against ever giving Louis the time of day, that Harry had in fact been wrong. And that Louis had in fact let him down, even after Niall had warned him. After he’d given him the benefit of the doubt. 

Shame. Regret. Guilt. Shame. Regret. _Guilt._

They burned inside of Louis on an endless loop while he waited for his window to roll down completely. Instantly, Niall leaned in, meeting Louis’ eyes. If he thought he was a coward before, well, Louis hadn’t really known fear until he looked into the eyes of Harry’s best mate. Into the eyes of the only other person that he felt obligated to explain himself to. Niall only wanted the best for Harry and he had been so willing to let Louis _try_ to be the best. 

Louis had failed at that, though, hadn’t he?

“‘bout fuckin’ time, Louis, mate,” was all the Niall said before a small smile played on the corners of his lips. 

Okay, _what?_

What kind of reality was Louis living in? About time? About time, what? What was Louis missing, this time? Why did it seem like Niall was smiling? None of anything happening in his life was making any sense. Why the fuck couldn’t Terri just give him some kind of road map for navigating other human beings? Shouldn’t that be in the post-suicidal-I-was-practically-raised-in-a-basement survival guide? 

Some help would have been great. 

Louis swallowed once, not saying a word. 

Niall reached a hand in and ruffled Louis’ hair, “I mean, that is assuming that you are actually here to _talk_ to him this time? Like with real words and all?”

This time Louis nodded, yes, he was here to talk because whatever it was that he and Harry had was definitely worth more than his pride, than his fear. Harry had already seen the worst, so there was no point to hide his feelings—not any more. 

“Good. I’m pretty sure he’ll listen,” Niall smiled then, blue eyes glinting in the street light, “I’ll leave you to it, mate.”

Niall walked back to his car then, reversing out of his spot and speeding off in the general direction of his and Harry’s flat. Louis glanced at the clock. 10:11. If things hadn’t managed to change drastically in the last two days, Harry would walk out the door within the next 2 minutes. Quickly, Louis undid his seatbelt. He couldn’t handle the idea of being trapped in the car with Harry, trying to say the things he needed to say in the suffocatingly small space. Of not being able to see Harry’s eyes when he spoke. 

Louis had no sooner comfortably seated himself on Marsha’s hood when he saw the lights in the coffee shop turn off and the door open. Harry’s eyes were downcast for a half a second until he saw Louis sitting on the hood of the car. Louis couldn’t really be sure, because he was a bit too far away still, but it really looked like some kind of hope flickered in Harry’s green eyes. There didn't seem to be even the smallest debate on Harry’s face before he started to make his way toward Louis. 

Fuck. 

Louis’ heart was hammering in his throat, in his ears, in his stomach and probably people in outer space could hear the pulses from the ISS. This was the moment when he was supposed to say something to Harry. When he was supposed to address the things Harry had said to him and there wasn’t a word he’d learned in the entire English language that could possibly sum up the bucket of nerves inside him—because Harry could refuse. He could push back and force Louis out of his life. He had more than his fair share of reasons to do just that. The hardest part of all was knowing that for the first time in his life, Louis was honestly putting himself out there. He was taking a risk and flirting (really too fucking closely) with the possibility of rejection. 

Louis didn’t _do_ that. He didn’t do that because there was no one else on earth that would have been worth that risk. 

Harry was worth that risk. 

And even with all of this playing out in his mind, all Louis could focus on was how soft and pink Harry’s lips looked despite how the street lamps washed out nearly everything around them. The night drained everything of colour, except, apparently, Harry. He looked…the same. The same as he had always looked, but there was a dam inside of Louis that was breaking. A million new things rushing through his veins that had always been there, but safely held back. Held back in places where they couldn’t hurt Louis. But now? Now all Louis could think about was how fucking _beautiful_ Harry was. 

“Hi,” 

Harry’s voice was deep and raspy and exactly the same as it had been two days before, but today it was accompanied by a not entirely unsettling chill down Louis’ spine. 

That was new. 

“Hey,” he managed, a smile emerging, because Harry was climbing up next to him on the hood of Marsha—and he could do this. He could talk, because it was Harry and that was all that really mattered. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just so we're on the same page here, this story is LONG. I don't really know how many more chapters there will be. I have a plan and I knew exactly where things will go. There's still a lot more of the main action in this story to come, so... I just want to make that clear in case long stories aren't your thing. 
> 
> Also, also, I made an Instagram because I feel like I'm the only person who never plugs their social media on here, and I would genuinely love to hear feedback or just chat about things with any of you. 
> 
> Also, also, also, I don't have any ideas for any long, chaptered stories at the moment, so I think after I finally finish this beast, I'm probably going to stick to one shots for a bit. I'm thinking about doing a series (kind of) of one shots inspired by one specific song each? IDK. I'm opened to ideas.
> 
> Hit me up on Instagram or something @feels.like.home01
> 
> Love you all!


	19. XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Finally, they talk...
> 
> This chapter is short. I'm going to work much harder on the next one, I swear. 
> 
> I've just been listening to a lot of throw back music while writing this, by that I mean mostly the Linking Park I listened to in the past because I've realized that they are kind of the soundtrack to Louis' life in this story. 
> 
> The two stand-out songs that I'd recommend listening to that are just SO Louis are Castle of Glass and Robot Boy. 
> 
> Also, thanks as always for your support on this story and all your comments! You're all amazing and I appreciate it so, so much!

Louis swallowed hard as Harry settled in next to him, keeping a firm distance, but his body language still as open as ever. Louis kind of hated it. He hated that he'd created this divide between them and hated even more that if he were to try to erase it, that it might mean something different now. And he hated that he didn't know if he _wanted_ it to be different. What he did want was for things to be the same, but he doubted they could go back easily. He'd probably ruined any shot he had at that. 

"You weren't in class," was the first thing Louis thought to say and for someone who read as much poetry as he did, he should have been a lot better at placing words in a neat line. 

Harry nodded once, "I was embarrassed."

Oh. That wasn't something Louis had considered. Embarrassed? Maybe that made sense. Louis had left Harry hanging  after he'd opened his heart to him. Fuck, Louis had fucked up. 

He meant to respond, he really did, but it was just that he'd practically ran out of his house without even thinking about what to say. Louis didn't do that, was the the thing. He didn't fly by the seat of his pants. He'd probably waiting to long to say something because Harry was talking again and fuck, Louis was shit. He always let Harry pick up his slack. He had to stop doing that. 

"You didn't text me the other night. I saw you typing but you didn't send it. Do you really not have anything to say to me? Yeah, I fucked up, but I'm still the same person, you know?"

Louis mostly just wanted to vomit, "you didn't text me, either. you were typing, too"

A ghost of a smile played on the corners of Harry's lips, finally, Harry broke the barrier between them. He reached his foot across and kicked Louis' foot, the slightest laugh escaping, "sucks, doesn't it?"

Despite everything, Harry's mood was light, and Louis was drawn into it like a moth to a flame. He hadn't expected this. Mostly he'd just expected Harry to be upset. Maybe refuse to talk to him at all, but here he was sitting next to Louis and _laughing_. Fuck. Harry was fucking perfect, wasn't he? 

"Yeah, I suck." Louis voice was shaky from his nerves. 

Harry kicked his foot again, harder this time, "stop that. I'll only let you accept 50% of the blame. I was stupid, but you could have talked to me. You could have told me I was stupid."

"You weren't stupid," Louis argued. 

"Oh, but I was." Harry said mournfully, "I mean, as soon as I started to say it I could tell you had no idea what I was talking about. That was kind of all the answer I needed—that you hadn't even considered it… I obviously made it all up in my head and that was stupid."

Louis had read a lot of books in his life time. He'd read through his fair share of love stories and he knew how this should have gone. This was where he was supposed to tell Harry how he felt. This was where he should tell Harry he was wrong. This was the part where they were supposed to kiss and run off together. 

But this wasn't a book. This was Louis and Louis was broken. Thoroughly and completely and for the first time in his life he wished that he could have had a normal life. A life where someone at some point had cared about him so that he could have known how to do this. How to care about Harry in the ways he wanted. Above that, too, he wished he knew how to accept and believe in Harry's words. 

"Look," Louis started, "I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say. I didn't expect it, because you're the best friend that I never let myself hope for. I mean the rest of it…I just wasn't expecting. I didn't know I _could_ expect it. I was just wrapped up in finally having someone I could trust and someone that didn't just want things from me or felt like I owed them something. I didn't want that to change and I still don't."

Harry exhaled softly, staring at the ground in front of Marsha. Louis really wanted to be able to say something that mattered. That would change things. Most of all, though, he wished he could have been anybody else in the world. He wanted to be enough for Harry. He wanted to be the kind of person who deserved someone like Harry. 

"See, all of that?" Harry's voice was soft and uncertain and Louis hated it because Harry was never uncertain, "is why I feel stupid. I feel like I let you down because I definitely should have known you better."

Louis could practically feel the sadness and disappointment rolling off of Harry. There had to be something he could say that might fix things. 

"I..." dammit, he could _do_ this. He'd already done it a hundred times. He could be honest with Harry, same as he'd always been. There was no reason to let the flutter in his stomach change anything. "You mean a lot more to me than I ever would have expected. Like, not having you around that last few days... it isn't something I ever want to happen again and I know it's selfish of me to ask you to settle for things being the same, but I can't make you a better promise. Not right now, anyway. I'm not saying never, but I really can't imagine that I could give you the things you need. I'm still learning how to take care of myself."

Harry still looked beaten, broken and maybe a little bit like he'd let himself expect that Louis might say something different. Fuck, Louis wished he could be better. He wished he understood what it even was that Harry was asking him for, because he'd probably be able to give it, if he just knew what it was. He wanted to always give Harry everything he needed, but he couldn't because he wasn't _better_. 

He hated himself. _Thoroughly_. He really did, and he knew that he wasn't supposed to. That feeling such a loathsome emotion was only hindering any progress he made, but he could only stifle it so often. Now he was all too aware of the way his stomach clenched while he watched Harry's eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks in the soft yellow glow of the street lamp and the way that he wanted to be more, to be better because Harry deserved so much. He shouldn’t even have been considering Louis as an option, and Louis knew that. He knew there was no possible way that he’d ever really deserve Harry, but, fuck did he _want_ to. He wanted to be everything but he was just left as a big, crumpled pile of disappointment and cracks and breaks that other people had made, but he didn't know how to repair. It would probably be ages before he was even enough of a person to _try_ to be more to Harry. 

"I'm trying though, Haz, I am," Louis felt a bit choked up with his words because Harry knew a lot. He knew Louis had tried to kill himself and he knew most of the details of his upbringing, but Louis tried not to delve deeper. He was too used to dealing with his pain on his own, but he felt vaguely aware that if he had any chance at fixing this thing with Harry, he'd have to give more. 

“Like, since I left the hospital I've been trying. I don’t, like announce it, but I have a therapist, and things are better. Better than they’ve ever been. I know I’m still a mess. I don’t even know why you ever wanted to try with me, but I owe a lot of getting better to you, you know? I never knew that there was someone out there who could make me feel like a person. I might be too fucked up to get it a lot of the time, but you _have_ to know I care. I’m learning everything from the ground up, though. I never knew how to care because no one ever cared about me, not for real and… I almost died, you know, and Lottie was the only person that cared.” 

Louis paused, inhaling slowly, because this was probably the longest succession of words he’d ever said in one go. Harry was still slouched on the hood of Marsha, but he was glancing up at Louis now, “It’s just…I didn’t know that wasn’t normal. That was just how it had always been. I didn’t expect anyone to care—I never have because I never set myself up for disappointment.” Harry looked like he was about to speak, but Louis wasn’t finished, so he pressed on, “however, it’s come to my attention that, that isn’t normal. Like, if you almost died? People would care. You could expect that. Niall, Zayn, Liam, your family? They’d care, and I guess I’m just trying to make you realize the difference between us in that sense. I can’t expect people to care. I’m not looking for your sympathy because I know _you_ care. I get it, now, okay? You made me realize that maybe that could be something that’s a part of my life. Just—that’s so different from what you’re asking me. Accepting that you give a fuck about me? That’s a far cry from actually believing in the rest of it. I’m just not there yet.”

They fell into another long silence. This time, though, without making anything feel different, Harry pulled Louis against him. He held fast to him, but even with all the pressure Harry had put on them, it felt normal. It felt like any other hug they’d had and it didn’t feel like he was asking Louis for more. So Louis let himself relax into it. He wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled himself closer. 

“I respectfully disagree,” was what Harry finally said to end their silence. 

Louis was still wrapped up in Harry, not ready to let go just yet, “disagree to what?”

“People care. It’s not just me.”

“Harry,” Louis really didn’t want to argue his point. He really didn’t want to mention that his real father had walked out of his life a full twenty years ago and never looked back. He didn’t want to mention that his'dad' had really just been another person in a house full of people who had never noticed him. He’d stood by his mother’s side and chosen the girls over him time after time, and once again, he’d never looked back once he’d left. He didn’t want to dredge up the fact that he’d never had a friend growing up and that even his nanny’s had been aloof and impossible to reach out to. That his only comrade in life had been using him for sex and money for more years than Louis should have accepted. He didn’t want to reinforce that he was right and that no one had ever cared. 

“You know what Niall said when you left with Zayn that night?”

Louis pulled back then, meeting Harry’s eyes. He shook his head. 

“He told me you needed time, that I was asking too much. When I said I thought you’d never come around, he called me a tosser and said everything would be fine, that you cared a lot more than you understood.” Harry pushed back his fringe and met Louis’ eyes with an intensity Louis wasn’t used to, “Niall cares. He doesn’t even know all of it and he stood by you. So, yeah, things might have been shit before, but this isn’t ‘before’. This is now and I can name a whole bunch of people that care about you, even if you don’t see it or understand why, but you’re a good person, Louis. People would be stupid not to care.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, and the words felt heavy. 

Harry nodded once, “and for what it’s worth, half sorry,”

Louis lips twitched a bit, the ghost of a smile playing on them because Harry was foolish. He was always foolish and intensely honest and intensely lovely, too, but that was a crisis for another time. “Just half?”

Harry nodded again, “yeah, because, like, I should have known better. I should have known that you weren’t ready for that and that you just really needed me to be your friend.” he was still smiling, but it slipped a bit as he looked away from Louis to say his next set for words to the ground. “I’m not sorry about my feelings though. I can’t be sorry about that because I didn’t _choose_ them. It just happened all on its own, and I think that that just speaks to what I’m trying to say to you. There’s a million— _billion—_ amazing things inside of you and people are just going to keep seeing that, I’m just one example of someone that fell into that.” He paused for a second and then cleared his throat awkwardly, “so, to clarify, I’m sorry— _fifty percent sorry_ —because my timing was shit, but my feelings are just…my feelings. Can’t be sorry about them, you know?”

Louis nodded once, “and I’m sorry, too, like one hundred percent, because I should have just talked to you. I’m just really bad with…like everything that involves social interaction,” he gave a small self-depreciating laugh and received an elbow to one of his ribs. 

“False,” said Harry, “you’re a really good hiking buddy, and you’re fucking brilliant at reading poetry aloud, proper good cuddler, too, and you don’t even snore.”

Louis smiled again, proper this time, feeling his whole face crinkle up with it, “thanks, Harry, for, like, everything.”

Harry nodded once before he draped an arm around Louis’ shoulders, effectively erasing the bite of the cold November air. Things felt okay, or like they could be okay again. That was more than Louis had let himself hope for. Still, though, that was mostly due to Harry and Louis was so tired of everything feeling unbalanced. He needed to give more. 

“You know how some people say it’s ‘just not their year’ and all that?” he asked quietly. 

Harry made a hum of confirmation, so he pressed on. 

“Well, it hasn’t been my…two decades,” again he laughed and it was self-loathing, and again he received an elbow to the ribs. Harry wrapped his arm back around him almost instantly, though, so he pressed on, “what I mean is, everything has always been shit. I’m surprised I made it as long as I did, if I’m honest. I don’t know why it took me twenty years to decide I wanted to die,” he felt himself and Harry cringe at the words once they were out, “and I know that’s a shitty thing to talk about and that you probably don’t want to hear me say that, but it’s true. I had everything my whole life, you know, except the things that mattered. I just got used to expecting that’s how things would always be and I can’t really say I’m surprised that I finally gave up. This is going to sound stupid,” Louis paused for just a beat before he felt harry squeeze him softly, encouraging him to continue, “but I’m kind of glad that I gave up, because I think that’s what changed things. It changed things for Lottie and I didn’t realize how much I needed that, how much I needed her. I wouldn’t have met Terri, my therapist, if it weren’t for that, and I probably would have dropped all my classes and never even shown up to bio if it weren’t for them. I’m just really glad I met you, Harry.”

“Lou,”

“It’s like, I spent my whole life drowning, because, fuck hitting bottom, you really can’t hit bottom if it’s all you’ve ever known. I didn’t get to hit bottom like normal people do, because I was always there. Now i’m just like tripping along, trying to figure out how to breathe when everyone around me has been doing it their entire lives and I’m just so far behind. I’ll probably be far behind for a long time and I just don’t want to set you up to be disappointed. I can’t tell you I’ll never want more with you, but I can’t really tell you when I will either and that’s not really fair. I just don’t want you to miss out on something better because you’re hung up on waiting for me to get it together. I don’t want you to wait for me, not at all. I honestly would probably still fuck it up, even if i was ready, so please Harry, don’t hold back because of me. I’d never be able to live with myself if I knew you were holding back because of me. I don’t even know what I want—what I’m allowed to want. but I do know what I don’t want: and that is to lose you because i’m too stupid to see the difference between relationship dynamics. So I am sorry for overreacting to something that is probably so fucking normal to the rest of the world.”

Harry was quiet, but he was nodding slowly. He didn’t say a word though, and it just added to Louis’ anxiety. Things felt like they were going to keep falling apart, no matter how many words Louis put out there.

“I want to say the right thing, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to fix things. I don’t know how to be enough.” 

Instantly Harry’s head jerked up and he crushed Louis against him. Harry buried his face against Louis’ neck and spoke so softly that if the words weren’t pressed directly against his skin, Louis was pretty certain that he wouldn’t have heard them at all. “You _are_ enough. You’re more than enough, Louis, don’t you know that? I’m so tired of you trying to live up to my expectations. Do you even know what I want? I just want you to be you. You’re doing fine, Lou.”

Louis’ face was buried in tendrils of Harry’s curls and all he could smell was his shampoo and coffee and there was something grounding about it. Louis was constantly on the verge of breaking. It was nice to have someone who made that feel less possible. 

“Will you come back to my place? Liam and Zayn are there and I’m sure they’d all like to see you.”

Louis nodded against Harry, reluctantly letting go as Harry pulled back. Harry slid off the hood quickly and pulled open the passanger’s side door. 

“I really missed Marsha, you know.”

 

…

 

When Louis walked through the door of Niall and Harry’s flat, Niall had an arm around him almost instantly, leading him into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer off the counter, opened it up and handed it to Louis.

“Glad you came, Tommo,” Niall said with an easy smile on his face.

“Tommo?”

“Harry names cars, I name people. Its a thing I do.”

Louis smiled because he’d worked himself up so much about Niall. He’d been so certain from the very beginning that Niall was destined to hate everything he did, but he had been consistently wrong about Niall (to be fair, he’d been consistently wrong about most things). He couldn’t help the grin that was plastered on his face, because giving out nicknames might have been ‘a thing’ that Niall did, but it felt like more to Louis. This was the second nickname he’d gained in the last couple of months, and while it was much more casual and friendly than the more intimate way that Harry said ‘Lou’, it still meant a lot. Everything meant a lot because Louis was an adult who was just hitting most of his ‘firsts’ and maybe that was a little bit sad, but it was a little bit of hope, too. 

When Louis made his way into the living room, Zayn was grinning over at him. Liam and Zayn weren’t the only two people over that night, apparently. Liam was leaned up against the patio door talking to a guy with dark hair and a very eager laugh. Zayn waved Louis over to the couch. He smiled back and sat down next to Zayn, looking around the room and seeing a couple of girls he hadn’t met before. 

“Full house tonight,” Louis commented as he took a small pull from his beer. 

“It is Friday,” noted Zayn, swirling around the drink in his glass (presumably brandy). 

Niall tossed himself onto the last open cushion on the couch just as Harry entered the room. Niall draped a lazy arm around Louis’ shoulder. 

“Good to have you back mate. Longest two days I ever lived through with that one.” he said gesturing to Harry. 

“Harry!” thundered a voice that Louis didn’t recognize. It took him another second before he realized that it belonged to the guy Liam had been talking to. He left his place next to Liam while Liam was still mid sentence, making a bee-line straight for Harry. Immediately, without even a second of hesitation, like it was the most normal thing in the world, he pulled Harry into a tight hug. 

“It’s about time you got here.” 

The guy’s grin was big, too big, really, for a simple greeting. Harry smiled back at him politely. “Hey, Nick.”

Louis hadn’t noticed the way he’d tensed up at their exchange, but apparently Niall had. He massaged Louis’ shoulder with the back of his thumb, leaning over to talk to him, “that’s Nick Grimshaw,” he explained, “he’s in Harry’s drama program. He and Liam are mates.”

Louis remembered how to swallow, somehow, as the guy—Nick, apparently—pulled away from hugging Harry just to place his hand on the small of his back. 

Oh fuck. Louis shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t bother him at all that Nick was a friendly guy, but something was twisting inside of Louis’ stomach and he missed all of what Zayn was trying to say to him. 

“What?” he said finally, and his voice was a bit short, a bit too short, but Nick was saying something to Harry and felt the need to lean in a little bit too close to say it, and in Louis’ defence, that was pretty distracting. 

“I was trying to introduce you to Perrie and Jesy,” Zayn said, a smile playing on he corner of his lips. He gestured toward the blonde girl, “this is Perrie, and that one over there is Jesy. They’re in my program.”

Louis pasted on a small smile, not showing any teeth and waved to them awkwardly. He was trying really hard not to think about how Nick still hadn’t taken his hand off the small of Harry’s back.

Zayn was swatting Niall’s hand away from Louis’ shoulder then, getting up from his spot on the couch. “Come smoke with me.” 

Louis got up from his spot quickly and trailed Zayn out to the patio, pausing only to see Harry smile at him while Nick continued to talk directly in his hear. Maybe Louis was overreacting. It wasn’t like Harry was ignoring him in any way, it was just that Nick was trying to bid for his attention a little too hard. He closed the patio door behind him and Zayn already had a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. 

“Fucking Nick Grimshaw,” Zayn said on his first exhale. 

Louis just watched him, not really sure what this conversation was about. 

“He’s a right fucking prick, you know? Made a bee-line for Liam the second he got here. I haven’t even gotten a word in all night because of fucking Nick. He lives to flirt or whatever it is he does. Guess I don’t really have a right to be jealous since Liam doesn’t fucking belong to me, but here I am.”

Louis nodded, “he seems…friendly.”

“With Harry, you mean?” said Zayn, answering his own question straight away, “yeah, he’s friendly with Harry. Really, though, he’s friendly with everyone who’ll listen. Harry’s his favourite though.”

The palms of Louis hands prickled and he scrunched them up into fists. There was a really dark feeling making it’s way down his spine. It didn’t make any sense and it contradicted everything that he had just said to Harry that night. He wanted Harry to be happy. He wanted him to have the things he needed, the things that Louis didn’t know how to give. He had no right at all to feel such a dark feeling at that prospect, because he wasn’t ready to give Harry everything. He didn’t know how and he should have been happy that there were more options for Harry. Besides, it wasn’t like it could change anything. They were friends. Best mates. Louis had made that very certain, and even if Harry were to open up and explore other people who might be able to give him everything? Well that wasn’t going to change things between them. It couldn’t. 

“I don’t think Harry’s interested, though,” Zayn added while fiddling with his lighter. He exhaled and the smoke collected around him, making him look like a statue of some kind of deity that people would flock to worship. 

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Louis didn’t mean to sound so defensive, but, oops. 

“Uh, because of you? Because Nick is an obnoxious twat that flirts with anything in possession of a dick?”

Louis ran his hand across his face, gripping onto his fringe and tugging it, trying to find something to say to address all of the things that Zayn had just said. 

“I mean if Harry’s interested, he should go for it, you know?”

Zayn paused before putting the end of the cigarette in his mouth, his eyebrows pulled together strangely as he stared at Louis like he’d said something entirely stupid (which was pretty possible). “Uh, there’s a lot of things wrong with that. First, Nick is a flirt and I don’t think he ever follows through with anything…at least that’s what I tell myself when he goes after Liam. Second is that you most definitely _do_ care, even if you’re trying not to. Why would you even say that? You don’t want Harry to date someone else. I’m not a fucking idiot, you know. You can be honest with me.” Zayn paused then, finally putting the cigarette in his mouth, “did you guys even talk about _anything_ tonight?”

Louis tugged a bit harder on his fringe before exhaling loudly, “there’s like a lot you don’t know about me, and even though you think things should be easy…it’s not like that, okay? I need Harry to be my friend. I don’t want the rest of it. I want him to find someone he can have that with,”

“You’re a bad liar,” challenged Zayn, and, okay, this was kind of how Zayn had always been, but it was a bit much, wasn’t it?

“You are not the pinnacle of relationship advice.” Louis’ voice was bit more cutting than it normally was. 

“Be that as it may,” started Zayn, his gaze narrowed on Louis, calculating, “at least I can admit I’m jealous. I’m jealous of Nick every time he even _looks_ at Liam. You’re jealous of the same thing but you’re too scared to say it and that’s stupid because Harry is mad about you. Quit Lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Louis voice sounded a bit rough, because Zayn was pushing him a bit too hard. He didn’t want to break. Not any more. Not in front of Zayn. He tried to school his expression so that Zayn would stop pushing. 

“You’re lying to yourself,” Zayn could argue to death. 

Thankfully, he had to immediately drop the subject when they were interrupted. 

“Zayner,” Louis immediately recognized the voice as Nick’s the second he heard it. 

Zayn’s lips curled in disgust so quickly that Louis had to stifle a laugh, all his prior frustration washed away by the fact that Zayn couldn’t even _fake_ being nice to this boy. 

“Nicholas,” was all he said as a greeting. 

“Going to introduce me to your stunning friend, here?”

“Paws off,” said Zayn, not missing a beat, “he’s all mine.”

Nick ignored Zayn’s words and brushed into Louis’ space all the same, standing in front of him reaching out his hand, “I’m Nick,” he said, trying to give Louis his most dazzling smile, but Louis was trying to look everywhere but him. He wasn’t really sure what it was about Nick that he didn’t like…but it was instinctual. 

“Louis,” he said softly. 

Nick’s eyes lit up, “ _you’re_ Louis? Louis Tomlinson? Charmed, I’m sure,” he reached out his hand for Louis to shake. 

Reluctantly, Louis gripped onto Nick’s out-stretched hand. He didn’t want to meet Nick and he really wasn’t sure why. Maybe he was feeding off of Zayn’s energy. That had to be it, because he really had no reason to feel so strongly about someone he’d never even spoken to. 

“So, what’s your deal, then, Louis Tomlinson?”

“He doesn’t have a deal, Nicholas,” Zayn said from somewhere behind them. 

“So, nothing between you and Harry then?” 

Wow. Nick wasn’t easily deterred. Nothing that Zayn said seemed to make him want to back down at all. 

“He’s not interested,” Zayn growled this time, inching his way closer to Louis so that he was standing just as close to Nick. 

“Can’t blame me for _looking,_ Zayner.” Nick winked at Louis and that sent all kinds of really unpleasant things shivering down Louis’ spine, “I mean, cheekbones to cut glass and eyes that blue? I'm human, I’m gonna look.”

“That’s quite enough out of you. Go put the moves on Niall or something,” Zayn said, grabbing Louis’ elbow and leading him back toward the door. Nick had his own cigarette dangling between his fingers now, so thankfully he didn’t follow behind them. 

 

The rest of the night consisted of Louis watching every single move that Nick made. A lot of them were directed at Harry. Harry didn’t seem completely opposed to any of it, and while Louis felt pretty certain that it made him a total hypocrite, he hated it. He hated watching Nick openly praise Harry’s good looks and take every chance he could to touch him. It was definitely not the night that Louis had seen for himself. Hanging out with the dramatic pairing or Liam and Zayn and Niall cracking all kinds of jokes? That was the night he thought he was in for. 

It wasn’t in his imagination that Harry seemed to be spending more time with everyone else, was it? It had been days since they’d even spoken, and then Louis had spilled everything he could even think of and now he was spending more of his night with Zayn than anyone else. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted time with Harry—time that didn’t include Nick. 

“Oh, fuck off,” it was Zayn’s voice, carrying from the kitchen where he was mixing a drink and talking to Liam. Louis recognized that tone of voice, though. Zayn was ready to explode. 

“What is it this time, Zayn?” Liam sounded exhausted, like he was sick of asking what was upsetting Zayn every other day.

“Look, instead of pretending you give a fuck about what’s wrong with me, why don’t you just go blow Nick. I know you’ve been dying for it all night.”

This time, instead of getting angry Liam snorted a loud laugh, “No, I don’t want to blow Nick Fucking Grimshaw, you twat.”

“Oi!” yelled Nick from across the room, where he was sitting on the floor next to Harry, “plenty of people want to blow me.” 

Liam wasn’t paying attention, though, he had his hand on Zayn’s shoulder and they were just kind of staring at each other. They looked like they were either about to confess their undying love for each other or like they might be about to get into a fist fight. Louis couldn’t really be sure. 

“ _Well,”_ Zayn’s voice was still sour, but he was stretching. He didn’t know what he wanted to say, and Liam caught onto his hesitation. 

“Well, nothing,” said Liam, narrowing his eyes. 

It happened really fast. Zayn was about to try to say something else, but Liam grabbed his face with his free hand that shut Zayn up before he even started. Without a second’s hesitation they both flew at each other, tongues meeting before lips and Louis really had to look away because it was getting pretty steamy, pretty quick. He coughed and redirected his attention to Harry who was still sitting on the floor, now with his hand over his mouth in surprise, because he still hadn’t looked away from Liam and Zayn. Nick had his arm draped around Harry’s shoulders, not even bothering to pay attention to anyone else. 

Yeah, this wasn’t really the night Louis had imagined. He kind of wanted to leave, and really, there was nothing holding him back. He got to his feet quickly and made his way to the front door. He hadn’t even picked up his first shoe before Harry was grabbing his wrist. 

“What’s wrong?” He demanded quickly, not releasing his grip on Louis’ arm. 

“Nothing, just tired. I just want to go home and sleep,” it wasn’t a lie, not really. Emotionally, he was exhausted. The best way he knew how to deal with that was to sleep. 

“You could stay,” offered Harry tentatively, because he knew that he’d changed things. That staying didn’t really mean the same thing that it had 3 days ago. He hated that, and maybe Harry did, too, because his eyes were sad. 

“I want to sleep in my own bed,” it was a cop out of an excuse. 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed Harry grabbing his boots. He pulled them on while Louis watched and then looked up at him, “I’m coming,” he didn’t make it a question. 

Louis tried to hide the smile that wanted to take over his entire face, “okay,” was all he said. He turned back to see Nick still sitting on the floor, watching as Harry grabbed both of their coats and handed Louis his. 

“I didn’t really want to stay for when that display,” he motioned in the general direction of his kitchen where Zayn and Liam were half wrestling, half snogging each other stupid, “goes from PG13 to R,”

Louis laughed and nodded his agreement, fishing in his pocket to pull out the keys to Marsha. “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the door. 

Harry’s smile was easy and normal and maybe Louis had made up everything in his mind. Maybe things hadn’t been different all night. Maybe they were just different because he’d made them that way. Harry never seemed to waver. 

“Night, Nialler,” Harry called into the flat, “night, Nick,”

Nick grinned back at Harry, batting his eyelashes and getting back to his feet, “night gorgeous,”

Louis was _not_ going to read into it. He was not. 

 

…

 

It was almost morning and Louis was still laying wide awake in his bed. He didn’t think that Harry was sleeping, either, because he couldn’t hear his breathing (or his mumbling), but he was over on the couch. It was all very strange. Everything was different, despite the fact that Louis had decided to fight for it to be anything _but_ different. Harry hadn’t even tried to sleep next to him, hadn’t even tried to hug him before jumping under his covers and settling in. 

Louis didn’t want it to be different, but it was because they were friends. Friends who had mutually agreed to ignore the fact that one party didn’t want to stop there. _Friends._ It had never seemed like word that Louis would be able to toss around so freely. He never imagined that it would be a word that he used to describe multiple people in his life. It was kind of a miracle. 

But it was also kind of a burden, because the more he laid there awake in his bed, the more he realized that even from his own perspective, it wasn’t a good enough word. It wasn’t enough to sum up what Harry meant to him. It wasn’t enough to sum up what Harry _gave_ to him. 

“Harry?” 

It had been hours that he’d been laying in his bed. Hours that he’d been trying not to think about everything that was wrong, but he’d been failing. 

“Lou?”

Good. Harry was still awake. Louis needed him to be. 

“Are we going to be okay?”

Louis heard the springs move on the couch, but Harry didn’t say a word. The room stayed silent and dark. He was just about to write off the entire thing when he felt a tug on his duvet and smiled as the bed dipped in behind him. Harry shimmied under the covers until he was pressed up against Louis’ back. He fitted his arms around Louis’ body and pressed his face to the back of Louis’ neck. Louis tried to ignore the way his heart started to trill in his chest. 

“I think,” started Harry slowly, “that we’re going to be fine, Lou.”

“It’s just,” Louis kind of felt like he was going to vomit, but the darkness of the room and the fact that he wasn’t face to face with Harry made things a lot easier. “I think Matt might have ruined the whole thing for me.”

Harry was quiet for a moment, just breathing gently against Louis’ neck, sending shivers across most of Louis’ body. “Maybe I could fix it,”

They were the kind of musings that Louis could only have dealt with in the middle of the night when he was a little more than half asleep and a lot less afraid of being vulnerable, because the darkness made Harry vulnerable, too. 

“Yeah, maybe one day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come to me and share your feelings! Hit me up on Instagram @feels.like.home01 ^.^
> 
> <3


	20. XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a beast. It took me ages to write, but I hope everyone enjoys it! A little Christmas cheer and a little less drama than the norm for this story! 
> 
> Song inspo for this chapter was Learn to Let Go and Rainbow by Kesha. Perfect songs for Louis. 
> 
> Also, I fully stole a line from Ed Sheeran's Hearts Don't Break Around Here..... sorry not sorry.

December creeped up slowly and without much warning. Things had mostly gone back to normal with Harry which was more than a little bit of a relief for Louis. December brought along with it the pressure of exams and while it had never been something that Louis had cared about in the past, he found himself wrapped up in the late nights and study sessions that seemed to always take place on the floor of Harry and Niall's flat. A lot of things that had never mattered to Louis were starting to matter now, and the night before their biology exam he was hung up on remembering the praise his mother had given him months back regarding his grades. He wanted it again, and if studying until five in the morning was going to get him there, than so be it. 

Very suddenly Harry slammed his textbook shut and flipped over onto his back, "I relent," he announced. 

Louis was still sprawled on his stomach, flicking through his flash cards for maybe the hundredth time that week. "You're giving up?" He said as he put his flash cards down and pushed away his text book so he could shimmy over to where Harry was laying. He rolled onto his back and used his arms for a pillow. 

"Not giving up, just letting Jesus take the wheel," Harry qualified. 

"You don't even believe in Jesus,"

"Stress can lead to hallucinations," explained Harry, "same thing."

"You all packed?" Asked Niall from the couch. Niall had one more exam the next morning and then he was leaving for Holmes Chapel. Harry, on the other hand, still had his final in bio and his Shakespeare class and three more shifts to get through. 

"Not even close," responded Harry. 

Everyone was leaving and Louis was trying really hard not to think about it. It wasn't going to be so bad, really. Christmas fell on a Sunday and it was working out that Louis wasn't even going to miss a single day with Terri. Plus Harry was only leaving for a week. He'd even be back in time for New Years. He'd be back before Louis' family, so that wasn't so bad. 

The thing was, ever since the day that he'd overheard Lottie and his mother argue about him going to Spain, there was a tiny part of him that couldn't help but hope it was still going to be a last minute snap decision on his mother's part. He kept hoping that any day she was going to invite him and then he'd be able to stop feeling so awful about lying to Harry. 

Well, he hadn't really  _lied_ , he reasoned. When Harry had asked about what he was going to end up doing for Christmas, he'd said that Lottie had been asking about Spain. Harry had smiled bright enough to nearly melt all the ice around Louis' heart. He couldn't delve deeper. He couldn't break the excitement that Harry felt for him. He didn't want to admit that for yet another Christmas, he'd be alone in his giant house, pretending as hard as he could that it wasn't happening. 

And Harry was excited about Christmas. He kept talking about baking cookies with his mum and sister and decorating the tree while Robin teased him about tripping over his own two feet. Louis had seen enough movies to know that his Christmases were the exception and not the rule. Christmas was supposed to be about being surrounded by loved ones, and hell, even Zayn was excited about it. Zayn was maybe the most bitter person he could think of, but he happily regaled stories about the smiles from his little sisters that lit up the town. 

Louis had been doing a much better job of fitting in with his friends recently, but this was one area he was totally lost in. He didn't have fond memories of Christmas and he didn't have many fond memories of his family, either, save from Lottie. This year wasn't going to be any different either. Not unless the miracle that Louis was hoping for was going to happen. He seriously doubted, though, that his mother was going to wake up one day and change her mind about him. Louis probably wasn't going to Spain and that was a fact that he felt pretty fucking rotten about. 

He'd talked about it with Terri, a lot. Of course, as much as she tried to, Terri didn't really get it. She didn't understand just how deep the problems in his family ran. She kept suggesting on multiple occasions that Louis _ask_  his mother for himself instead of waiting for an offer that might not come. She honestly had no idea how much Louis could not do that. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever initiated a conversation with her, let alone _asked_  her for something. Something that she might very well say 'no' to. 

Nope. That certainly wasn't an option. 

"Help me pack?" Harry's voice cut through Louis dark spiral of thoughts. 

"'Course," he said with an easy smile. 

 

...

 

It was December 20th and Louis had just picked up Harry from his last exam. For reasons beyond him (probably the pool, mostly) Harry had requested to spend the night at Louis' house. He was leaving after his last shift at work the following day and Louis probably would have said yes to any activity because he was stressed over thinking about how much he would miss Harry while he was gone. 

They were barely through Louis bedroom door before Harry's knowing words struck him. 

"You're not packing," he said as he looked around the room, "why?"

Fuck Harry and his perceptiveness. Louis didn't say a word. 

"Your house is empty. Where is everyone?" Harry's voice edged a bit on the hysterical side. 

His family had left. They'd left two days ago, Lottie in a fit of rage at their mother. She'd cried as she hugged Louis goodbye and begged him not to be sad. Begged him not to call Matt. She'd stood there, in front of their entire family and begged him not to kill himself. It had been a dramatic and exhausting display. No matter how much she refused to walk out the door, their mother didn't react. She'd spoken to Lottie like she was a child speaking out of turn. Not a single emotion had flickered on her face as she'd dragged Lottie out the front door and left Louis sitting on the stairs. 

"Spain," he said softly and he saw the recognition flicker in Harry's eyes. 

Fuck. He'd tried so hard to avoid this moment. It had been so close to when Harry was going to leave and he wasn't supposed to know Louis had been left behind. He wasn't supposed to be able to look at Louis with the pity he was in that moment. They'd come so close. 

"Louis..." Harry's voice was heavy and sad and Louis could taste the pity laced within his name. 

"Good news," Louis was trying, at least, to lighten the mood, "I can drive you home, if you want."

Harry's arms were around him instantly, crushing him in a tight hug, "you told me you were going,"

Harry's reaction to the whole thing made Louis realize that maybe this was something he was allowed to be upset over. Maybe it was just as fucked up as it felt to him. There was a strong possibility that Louis wasn't an idiot for feeling like absolute garbage when he looked back to two days ago and remembered sitting on the stairs and watching his family leave him behind... _again_. Even looking directly at him, his mother had no qualms about leaving him behind. 

What an idiot he was for ever thinking that things might change. Even almost dying hadn't made a difference to her. 

"Technically I never said that," he was hugging into Harry now. 

If there was something he'd learned for certain in the last few months, it was that it was okay to let go a little bit with Harry. It was okay to let him see the pain, because instead of making him feel weak and pathetic, Harry fed him strength. 

"I thought it was going to be different this time," Louis voice was soft and edged only slightly on hysterical because he didn't want to break. Not for the millionth time for the same bloody thing. "That was stupid."

"Not stupid," said Harry, still holding him close, "not stupid at all. It should have been different, Lou."

Louis sighed deeply, burying his face against Harry's neck. 

"I can't believe they left without you," Louis wasn't really sure if Harry was speaking to him or if they were just musings of utter amazement at the callousness of Louis' family. 

He answered anyway. 

"I can," because he could it was how things had always gone for him. "I was wrong to ever assume different,"

"Come home with with me," 

Harry's words were impassioned and they felt spontaneous. Like something he hadn't given any thought to. That was probably the worst part. Harry hadn't even considered the words before he'd put them out there. Harry was so good and so kind and he'd been such a firm staple in Louis' life as of late. Best of all though, was that he genuinely had always been looking out for Louis. Always wanting the best for him, even though that was something that was typically out of reach. 

This, though? This felt like pity. And maybe, if Louis were a different person and he'd met himself, maybe he'd feel pity too. Pity for the poor rich boy that had the world handed to him but was still somehow always cast aside. Maybe what Harry was doing made sense, but it never felt good to be on the receiving end of pity. It never felt good to be worthy of such a feeling. He wanted to be strong and normal and he wanted hurt from Harry to be the last thing he ever felt. 

But here he was, Harry throwing out ideas that couldn't possibly be founded in sincerity. Harry loved Christmas. He'd been nattering on about seeing his sister for literally months. Harry was looking more forward to this trip home than anything else in the world. He didn't want Louis there. He didn't need to be brought down while he was trying to celebrate his favourite holiday. As much as Louis didn't want Harry to leave so he didn't have to be alone, he wanted it to happen. He wanted Harry to come back and fill him full of stories about his family and their traditions. He really did want Harry to have a happy Christmas. He didn't want to take any part in making it worse. 

"I'm gonna call my mum, tell her you're coming."

"Harry," Louis voice held a warning, he pulled back from their embrace and stared at Harry. It wasn't really possible that Harry could be that hurt about something that hadn't even happened to him, was it? "I'll be fine, yeah? It's not the first time. I'll be okay. I never really had Christmas, it's not like I'm really missing anything. Pretend him Jewish,"

"Not funny," said Harry, his lips not even twitching at Louis attempt to lighten the mood, "everyone deserves a good Christmas. My mum would be so happy to meet you."

Louis exhaled through his nose, "it's not your job to make up for my family. I just want you to have fun with Gemma. Just promise you'll come see me when you get back.”

 

…

 

“Remind me again why you don’t want to go home with Harry?”

Harry was leaving that day after his last shift at work and Louis was sat in Terri’s office. It was their last session before Christmas, and in a very rare display, Louis had opened up the tiniest bit about Harry. He’d shared Harry’s offer with her, arguing that it was an offer based in pity and therefore he couldn’t accept it. 

“Because Harry wants to spend Christmas with his family. I don’t want to bring him down,”

Terri pulled a face like she didn’t believe a word he was saying, “do you ever think that maybe people can multi-task? Maybe Harry wants to spend time with his family _and_ you.”

Louis shook his head, “he feels bad because my family is shit. That’s not his problem though. It’s not his job to fix it.”

Terri fiddled with the candy cane she’d been working on for most of their session, “you do realize that sometimes its okay to just give in, don’t you?”

“Give in to what?”

She sighed, “just because Harry feels bad for you doesn’t mean he’s not being genuine. He _should_ feel bad. It means he cares, and I realize that you hate when people feel bad for you, but he’s only human. Your mother shouldn’t have left you behind. She never should have, and you can’t blame Harry for wanting to at least have a small role in making you feel better about staying behind.”

“I don’t want to intrude and wreck his Christmas,” Louis was starting to lose his resolve, because something about this year and how much everything had changed made just the idea of first sitting alone through his birthday and then through Christmas unbearable.

“I honestly don’t think that he would have asked if he was second guessing it at all. Harry seems like a pretty honest person, from what you _have_ told me,” Terri narrowed her eyes at him, “which, really isn’t too much. You've pretty much tried to keep him a secret, and I’m pretty good at reading people Louis. I know what that means.”

Louis swallowed once, but didn’t ask what she meant. He waited her out. 

“It means you’re trying to keep something from me, which I’m a bit hurt about, honestly. I’d like to think I’m a pretty safe place to talk about those kinds of feelings with.”

“‘Those kinds of feelings’,” Louis repeated and chuckled a bit darkly, trying to make it seem like he didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. Unfortunately, though, he did know. He couldn’t even pretend to be as oblivious as he had once been, and that was pretty disappointing. 

“Obviously you have feelings for Harry,” she said it point-blank, like she’d never met Louis a day in her life. Like she honestly thought he’d say a word about it. 

There was a long silence between them before she finally continued, “so,” she started, “is the real reason you don’t want to spend Christmas with Harry because you hate that he feels bad for you or is it that you’re afraid that you might fit in with his family. That they might like you and you might have more reasons to explore those feelings with Harry because they’re just going to get harder and harder to hide? Secrets are rarely a good thing, Louis, especially when you’re trying to keep them from yourself. Eventually you’re going to have to deal with them. You can’t keep pushing your feelings aside because you don’t think they’re valid. Spoiler alert: _they’re valid._ They’re just as valid as Harry’s own feelings, and maybe if you were to finally take a good hard look at your own, you might find that you and Harry are on the same page.”

Louis made a sort of growling sound in the back of his throat, “I don’t want to talk about this,”

“Of course not, because you’re scared.”

“I am not _scared_. Its called recognizing my limitations.”

“It’s okay to be scared, sometimes Louis, and you’re the only one who can create limitations for yourself. You’ve changed a lot since the first time we sat down here, and it’s only normal that you feel _more_. I know you haven’t had the opportunity to feel a lot of these things because before your life was about surviving, but it’s bound to change. You’re not just focused on making it through another day, you have ambitions. You want things for yourself and it’s okay to admit that maybe you want someone else to have those things with. Its not weakness, and like I’ve told you a hundred times before—people are going to let you down. Its a side effect of living, but there’s also people, like Harry, who want to help you when people let you down. I think that’s something to at least consider. I think you owe that to him as much as you owe it to yourself.”

“It’s not that I don’t respect your opinion…”

“But?”

“But I think I’m kind of at my capacity at the moment.”

Terri twirled her candy cane around in her mouth a couple of times before she pulled it back out and finally responded. 

“Do me a favour?”

Louis raised a questioning eyebrow at her. 

“Go with Harry. Just stop over-thinking it.”

“How is that a favour?”

“Because I won’t have to worry about you. I know you’ll be in good hands. I know its the right thing for you, and I think that deep-down you know I’m right.”

Louis reached across to her desk and pulled out his own candy-cane from the bowl, unwrapping it slowly. There was a lot of debate happening in his head because Terri was right about almost everything. At least to date, she was probably the only person in the world who had never let him down, despite her promise that almost everyone would. He trusted her. He trusted her more than anyone else in his life, and he was at least _considering_ that maybe she was right about the whole thing. Maybe the invitation wasn’t about pity. 

“What if you’re wrong, like about the Christmas thing and all. What if he’s just offering to be polite? What if his family doesn’t like me…I mean I don’t really have the greatest track record with winning people over,”

“We’re not talking about ‘then’, Louis. We’re talking about _now_ and you’ve won over a load of people, and I don’t see why Harry’s family wouldn’t like you. It’s pretty obvious that you just want the best for him. That’s all any family wants, Louis.”

 

…

 

“YES!” Harry yelled Loudly, dropping his phone on his bed and all but running across the room to envelop Louis in a suffocatingly tight hug.

“Good news?” Louis managed to croak out from the confines of Harry’s over-excited hug.

“Great news!” He said, finally releasing Louis from the hug. Louis coughed out a laugh while Harry continued, “I finished with an 86! An _86!_ In a science course! I can’t freaking believe it, Lou!”

Their biology teacher had just posted their final grade online. Louis hadn’t checked his yet, but Harry had been jittery since their final, convinced that he’d mucked the entire thing up. 

“Check yours!” Harry’s energy was astounding, considering he’d just finished an early shift at Starbucks and was planning on sitting on a train for the next few hours before he finally got home. “Check it now!” he reached for Louis phone, the creases in his forehead smoothed over and all the stress of failure having left him. 

Louis took his phone with a smile on the corners of his lips, “alright, alright,” he said while he logged into his student account as quickly as he could, Harry’s hip pressed flush against his. 

“You got me that 86, you know,” Harry said while he draped an arm across Louis’ shoulder. 

“Nah,” argued Louis, “I didn’t write your exam,”

“Yeah, but if you weren’t my partner? I’d have been hopeless. I promise you none of the other lads would have spent a solid week trying to make sure I actually understood what the difference between RNA and DNA was.”

“Well, I owe my whole semester to you, so there’s that.” Louis finished plugging in his password, “this was the first time I actually even made it to exams, you know. First time I ever actually cared.”

Harry was probably going to respond and deny responsibly for changing Louis’ life, but instead he gasped as Louis’ grade loaded on the screen. 

“You little brat,” said Harry as he hugged tighter to Louis.

“Older than you,” Louis reminded him, unable to actually hide his smile, because there was a 94 on his screen. That made bio his second highest grade. 

“Still a brat. A fucking genius brat. A brat with a freaking ninety-four that makes my lowly eighty-six feel like a 50,”

“Now, now, I’m pretty proud of that eighty-six,” said Louis, pinching Harry’s cheek. They were both grinning at each other, both proud of the way they’d managed to end their semesters on such a high note. “Plus, it’s hardly even fair. I’ve taken that bio class twice. I had a leg up.”

Harry grabbed Louis’ phone from him then, scrolling down to see the rest of his grades. Harry’s dimples were on full display when he finally got to the bottom and tossed Louis’ phone on the bed in the general direction of his own. 

“I hate you,” he said, despite the fact that his grin was doing a better job at lighting up the room than the light fixture on the ceiling above them. “Your lowest mark is an 89. You’re bloody brilliant. I didn’t know I was keeping such close company with an actual genius.”

Fuck it. Louis had spent most of his life trying to be modest. Trying his hardest not to seem like he was gloating, but this was Harry and Harry was allowed to know how proud he was. He let the grin take over his face, because even his mother would care about this. This was something that maybe he was allowed to be proud of. If he’d been that successful in just one semester, maybe there was hope for him yet. Maybe he’d make something of himself, yet. 

Harry pulled him into another tight hug, “proud of you, Lou.”

Proud. That was a new emotion, too, but Louis felt it. He was proud of himself. Just four months ago he’d woken up in that hospital bed with the shame of having failed at dying, too, but now he was here. Now all of that was a part of his past and he’d worked hard enough to ensure that, at least academically, he could have whatever future he wanted. That was pretty astounding. Never in a million years would Louis have ever expected to make it this far. 

“So,” Louis started, riding on this wave of confidence, “is your train ticket refundable, or what?”

Harry nodded once, a smile on his lips, “why?”

“Well, I just thought it would make more sense to carpool, you know, economically and all.”

Louis was one hundred percent certain that he was not making it up at all when he saw Harry’s face light up. His grin created literal craters in his cheeks and he scrunched up his eyes so tightly that Louis couldn’t even see the green of his irises. 

“Carpool,” Harry repeated softly, “as in when two people share a vehicle based on the principle that they’re heading to the same destination?”

“Exactly that principle,” Louis clarified, a smile growing on his face, too. 

“Why did you change your mind?”

Louis shrugged. Why had he changed his mind? He wasn’t really sure that it was one thing specifically. Maybe it was because of the things that Terri had said. Maybe it was because he was pretty sick of being alone for all of the major holidays. Maybe it was because he wanted Terri to be right. Because he wanted to believe that Harry wasn’t just pitying him. He wanted to let himself let go of his tendency to cling to the past. Harry wasn’t the past, though, and from the first day they’d met he’d acted completely differently from every other person in the world. Of course it would only stand to reason that his offer was genuine, that while, yeah, what Louis’ family had done to him by leaving him behind was unnecessarily cruel and Harry had a right to be sad about that, it didn't take away from Harry’s sincerity, didn’t devalue the offer. Maybe Louis was used to weathering the storms of life all on his own and wasn’t particularly opposed to getting soaked time and time again, but it didn’t mean that Harry was wrong to offer an umbrella, to make the whole thing a little less messy. 

“I guess, maybe I just got tired of pretending to be Jewish,”

 

…

 

“Niall will absolutely pee himself,” Harry said happily as he flicked through Louis’ phone to find the next song he wanted to play. “He was devastated when I told him you said ‘no’,”

Harry’s offer had been spontaneous, though, hadn’t it? It had been sparked out of pity when Louis had finally been honest about his family. Louis had been quite certain about that. It didn’t make sense that Niall would know about it. The offer had come after Niall had already left…

“You told Niall you invited me?”

Harry nodded slowly, “we talked about it a lot. I had a bad feeling about the Spain thing… I wanted to ask you ages ago, but I really didn’t know how to make you say ‘yes’.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

It hadn’t been spontaneous at all? Harry had been _planning_ to ask him? That changed things. That changed things a lot because…Terri had been right. Louis had jumped to conclusions and he had been wrong about Harry yet again. He’d been so quick to assume that even with the way he knew Harry cared for him, that the only reason he’d invited him was pity. It hadn’t been that at all. 

“You wanted me to come?”

“Uh,” Harry said, like it was perfectly obvious what Louis was missing, “yeah. Like, a lot…why do you think I asked you?”

Louis cleared his throat, feeling a bit uncertain and bit unbalanced, “because my family is shit. Because you felt bad that I’d be alone…”

“No. I mean, partly, I guess, but _no._ I wanted you to come home with me because…I wanted you to meet my mum, to meet Gemma. I just didn’t want to spend the week away from you and I suppose it’s just convenient that you didn't have your own obligations. Fuck Christmas, Lou, I would have invited you any time I was going home. I just think it will be nice to have all my favourite people in the same place.”

Something warm and calming flooded through Louis’ veins then. He felt his cheeks heat with a blush and he tried to stay focused on the road. Harry estimated they were about another half hour from his house and Louis was meant to be concentrating on how nervous he should be. He’d have to win over Harry’s family and he didn’t exactly have the most shining personality, and he really needed to devote more time to being stressed over that fact. 

“All your favourites?” Louis asked, his mood flooded with a sort of elation that he wasn’t accustomed to, “thought _I_ was your favourite? I didn’t realize I was sharing the title.”

Harry laughed then, reaching over to the steering wheel and running his thumb softly over Louis’ wrist, “you are. No contest—I promise.”

 

…

 

When Louis put Marsha into park in the driveway of Harry’s home, that’s when the panic finally started to hit. Even the comfort of having Harry next to him and his soft voice assuring him that there was no possible way anything could go wrong, didn’t help. Louis was going to fail _so, so_ miserably at this. Harry’s mum was going to see that he was shit. She was going to realize what a waste of time Louis had been for her son the past few months and Louis just was not ready in any way to face this reality. He didn’t know what it was that Harry had been able to see in him that no one else ever had, but he was pretty sure that Harry’s family wasn’t going to be any different than the rest of the world. He was pretty confident in the fact that he was going to appear like a black spot clinging to Harry’s otherwise happy disposition. 

The whole thing was doomed. Louis absolutely could not get out of his seat. There was no way that he was going to be able to face Harry’s family. There was no way that he was going to be enough. 

Why had he come here?

“You okay, Lou?” Harry’s voice broke through Louis spiralling panic. 

Louis looked over to him, sitting in the passenger’s seat as though he didn’t have a care in the world. There were still remnants of a smile on the corners of his mouth and Louis didn’t understand how he could be so happy and so confident when he was about to break his family’s heart. Surely they would be utterly gutted when they saw who Harry had pulled from the gutter to bring home with him. 

Louis felt ill, his eyes were wide with panic as he met Harry’s careful gaze, “no.”

Harry frowned then, a line creasing between his brows. He reached over and grabbed Louis’ hand, the physical contact making Louis nearly jump out of his skin before he quickly felt the same rush of heat through his veins. 

“You’re going to be fine, Lou.”

“They’re not going to like me, Harry. I can’t do it. I should go. I should really go home.”

“Hey, Louis, hey,” said Harry, tugging on Louis’ hand, trying to get him to meet his eyes. 

Louis looked up tentatively, seeing how absolutely disappointed Harry looked. Harry wanted this, for whatever reason, he really wanted Louis there. Louis didn’t want to disappoint him was the thing. He wanted to be able to have some sort of strength to tap into. He wanted to know how to handle this sort of situation. If he was better at things concerning other people, maybe he would be better at this. The thing was, though, that Louis had already done a million things for Harry that took him out of his comfort zone. It was kind of their norm. It was the kind of thing that maybe Harry had come to expect of him, but he wasn’t sure he could do this. 

“I’m not going to make you go in, Lou, but they’re excited, you know? It’s just…I talk about you a lot. They already know so much and there’s just no way that they’re not going to adore you. Gemma hasn’t stopped texting me since I told her you were coming. Even if you don’t stay…just come in? Just meet them.”

Terri’s words rang in his head. It wasn’t about his past track record of not being able to win people over, because he didn’t have to win over Harry’s family, did he? They weren’t from Doncaster. They didn’t know the person that Louis had always been. They weren’t aware of the notoriety he’d carried most of his life. They weren’t predisposed to his brand of failure, of his brand of disappointment, because the Louis they knew of? It was the picture that Harry had painted _for_ him. It was with that thought that he was transported back to one of those first days with Terri, when she’d asked him to created his own narrative of himself. When she’d tried to get him to tell his own story, not the one that he’d been fed most of his life. Not the one that had been based on everyone else’s opinions. She’d just wanted the honest story, the real story of who he was. 

That was kind of like what this whole thing with Harry was like. Harry didn’t see all those things that he’d once been so convinced defined him. Harry didn’t buy into the narrative that the rest of the world had subscribed to. He’d created his own version of Louis, and while maybe it wasn’t the most popular opinion that Louis had heard in his life…it was honest. Harry hadn’t allowed his vision of Louis to be skewed in any direction. He’d painted his own picture, wrote his own story about Louis’ life. 

And _that_ would have been the story that he’d shown his family. _That_ would have been the narrative that he’d used to introduce Louis into their lives. 

The emotion he felt at this realization was a bit heavy and hard to handle, but he wasn’t going to change anything. He wasn’t going to make a snap decision that would _ever_ alter Harry’s vision of him. He wasn’t going to let Harry down because Harry had written him so beautifully. Harry had changed so much of the world for him, the very least he could do was at least pretend to be the brave boy that Harry saw. The one he’d once described as being strong enough to walk right through the fire when the whole world was watching. 

Louis could be brave. He could be brave for Harry. 

He shook his head from side to side quickly, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, winding his fingers through Harry’s quickly, “of course I’m staying.”

Harry’s dimples reappeared quickly and he squeezed Louis’ hand, “of course.” he agreed. 

 

…

 

Louis had been standing in the threshold to Harry’s house for approximately .25 seconds before a young woman (presumably Gemma from the photos he’d seen all over Facebook and Instagram), came flying around the corner, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck. She kissed his cheeks and the tip of his nose as she pulled away. 

“Harry, baby, I missed you,”

“You, too, Gems,” Harry said, his tone fond and light. 

Gemma took one step back and then met Louis’ eyes. This was it. This was the moment Louis had been dreading. He was about to see if the narrative that Harry had created for him would hold or if his family would see right through the whole thing. If they would see him as nothing more than the pathetic disappointment he’d been classified as for most of his life. 

“Oh. My. Gosh.” were the first words out of her mouth as she looked at Louis, then turning to meet Harry’s eyes. She was wearing an excited grin, “ _this_ is Louis?”

Harry nodded once, biting his lip to keep his smile at bay. 

“Sweet Jesus,” she said, the grin not leaving her mouth at all, “he’s gorgeous. Bloody beautiful!” 

With that, she marched forward and pulled him into a tight hug, “I’m so glad you came,”

Louis didn’t know what to say. Gemma’s energy was intense, like she’d been waiting ages to meet him, but that barely made any sense to him. He’d only just made himself remember to wrap his arms back around her to return the hug when she was pulling away. 

Harry was pulling off his boots while he watched the whole thing with a smile on his face. Gemma ran out of the room then, calling out to their mother. 

“They’re here!” she announced, “Louis’ here and he’s proper gorgeous, mum!”

Harry met Louis eyes then and Louis was definitely not imagining the way his face was flushed all the way from his neck and across his cheeks. Harry mouthed a ‘sorry’ at Louis, and once their shoes were off, Harry led them into the house. 

Harry’s house was nothing like Louis'. It was the complete and total opposite. There was no exaggerated entranceway. There was no swooping, giant staircase, and certainly no enormous back garden flanked by stables. There was just a front door, a place to hang their coats and a place to put their shoes. The entrance gave way almost immediately into the living room, and they only had to take a couple of steps before he saw Harry’s mum and Robin, rising from the couch to greet them. 

“Welcome home, H,” his mum said before pulling Harry into a hug. She kissed his temple as she pulled back, “we missed you. It’s been too quiet around here.”

“Way too quiet,” agreed Robin, hugging Harry, too, “I missed not hearing someone trip over his own feet when he’s sneaking downstairs to raid the crisps.”

Louis had been in the house for approximately 3 minutes and after hearing Robin poke fun at Harry, he finally released the breath he’d been holding on to and a laugh tumbled from him very honestly and naturally. Robin met his gaze then, smiling brightly. 

“Judging from that reaction, I’m guessing you’ve witnessed Harry’s less than graceful ways first-hand?”

Harry’s mum was grinning at him, too. She’s was gorgeous, her smile wide and genuine and he could see so much of Harry in it. 

“I have,” finally, Louis had used his voice and it felt good to finally contribute something here. 

“So happy you’re finally here, Louis,” said Harry’s mum, immediately pulling him into a warm hug. Louis managed to do a better job of reacting normally this time, hugging her back in record time. “We’ve been hearing so much about you.”

Louis felt his face flushing then. Of course, he knew that Harry was close with his family and that he missed them a lot. That often resulted in breaks during their hang outs so Harry could talk to his mum and fill her in on his life, but he really hadn’t expected to be included in that. He didn’t imagine that there was a lot of things about him that Harry would be able to talk about with his family. _Oh, I met this guy, he’s my lab partner. Everyone in town told me to stay away, but I didn’t! He’s got a history of drug use and makes pretty stupid decisions most of the time. Oh, and he’s also suicidal._

But, Louis really had to stop thinking like that, because he’d already established that that wasn’t the path Harry had taken. Somehow, he’d dug deep and told his family something else about Louis, and that was pretty astounding. 

When Anne backed away, Robin was still smiling at him, he opened his arms and gestured for Louis to hug him. Okay. So they were all huggers. Harry had come by that honestly. Louis tried to ignore the twist of pain he felt in his stomach at that realization. It wasn’t just Louis. Harry would probably be affectionate like that with everyone. It was who he was and Louis really had no right to be mildly upset by that fact. 

Summoning some sort of courage that he hadn’t known he had, Louis went to Robin then and initiated the hug. Things in the house were very warm and comforting and Louis had only been here a few minutes, but it was pretty obvious to him that the place that Harry called ‘home’ was a lot more like a home than the sterile, empty place that Louis had called home for most of his life. 

And that was definitely a good thing. 

“Happy Christmas, Louis. Glad to have you.” Robin said into their hug. 

Louis met Harry’s eyes over Robin’s shoulder and it looked like his face was probably going to actually shatter from the intensity of his smile. Louis gave him an answering smile. 

Yeah. Louis didn’t do it a lot, but this time? He was definitely certain he’d made the right decision. This wasn’t something he was going to regret. 

“Why don’t you boys have a seat and I’ll make us a cuppa and we can catch up,” said Anne softly. 

...

 

It hadn’t even been a full half hour since they had walked through the door, but Louis had already laughed more than he could remember laughing with anyone that wasn’t Harry. Robin and Gemma seemed to have perfected their routine of taking the piss out of Harry for everything. It wasn’t mean, it was just that honest sort of family dynamic that Louis had only seen in movies until that day. 

Louis was still chuckling from the last thing Gemma had said about Harry’s previous obsession with singing at the top of his lungs in the shower, when Robin addressed him directly. 

“That’s a pretty fancy car you pulled up in, Louis,” Robin said, his eyes sparkling a little. That wasn’t a surprising reaction. People commented on Louis’ car a lot. “what model is it?”

“CLS,” Louis said quickly. 

“Well, she’s gorgeous,” said Robin. 

“Why is it that every car out there has to be a ‘she’?” said Gemma, “I mean, are you trying to say something about women? Am I missing something?”

Harry laughed proper at his sister’s rant, “well, Gems, Marsha is definitely a girl.”

“ _Marsha?_ ” Gemma snorted a laugh and then met Louis’ eyes, “you did not allow my brother to name your gorgeous car _Marsha,_ Louis, I mean seriously.”

Louis laughed softly, biting back his smile and nodding his head as a confirmation. 

“My god,” said Gemma, rolling her eyes and flinging herself against the back of the couch, “mum, they’re so fucking cute it’s actually causing me physical pain. I was not prepared for my baby brother to bring home the actual sweetest boy in the world.”

 

…

 

It was later that night and Louis was sat at the kitchen table with Harry, Gemma and Niall. Robin’s Christmas party was that evening, so he and Harry’s mum had left awhile ago, leaving behind money for them to order a pizza. Niall had shown up only seconds after Harry’s parents had left, marching straight into the house without so much as a knock. He’d scoffed the second that Harry and Gemma had suggested they play scrabble. 

“You lot are so fucking wholesome,” he moaned, “can’t you play normal board games like Cards Against Humanity or something at least vaguely adult?”

He’d given in pretty easily, though, once Gemma had handed him his titles. Louis had never played a game of scrabble in his life, but the idea seemed easy enough. He just had to lay out tiles on the board in a way that would score him the most points. It was pretty simple. Gemma was first, and apparently the best scrabble player in the house. In the box, there was a series of previous scorecards that mostly all listed her as the winner. It was pretty apparent that this was a title she was proud to hold, because she complained about the tiles she got, and when she finally did lay down the opening word, it was simple. She laid down a ‘G’ followed by an ‘O’. Harry stared at her for a minute before he finally realize that that was her entire word. He smirked happily. 

“‘Go’ is the worst opening word I’ve ever seen. Looks like the queen will be dethroned tonight,” he said happily, “it’s your turn, Lou, do you want me to help?”

Louis had willingly admitted that this was his virgin round of scrabble, which was probably a mistake. It made Harry underestimate him, and that probably wasn’t fair. 

“No, fair, Haz, you never help me!” said Niall. 

“Oh shush, you,” said Gemma, her eyes practically glittering at Harry, “he wants to help Louis and it’s cute. Leave it alone.” she winked at Louis then, before turning her attention back to Naill, “besides you’re hopeless. Everyone knows the Irish just make up words in daily life, I’d hardly expect you to play a proper round of scrabble.”

“Big talk for a woman who just sold herself pretty short on the first word of the night,”

Louis was smiling to himself and brushed off Harry’s offer. He looked down at his seven letters. They were pretty bleak the first couple of glances, the bleakness punctuated by the fact that he had two Ys and a Z. He also had an F, a T and two Es. After staring at it for a minute and not saying a word, he picked up a few of the letters. He placed the he place the Y right before Gemma’s G, which resulted in a raised eyebrow from Gemma. Next he placed the Z in front of that. Harry’s eyes widened at him, like he could see where the word was going. After the O, he laid down the T followed by one of his Es. 

“Zygote,” he said, smile set in place.

Harry laughed hysterically as Gemma’s eyes practically bulged out of her scull. “Liar!” she yelled playfully. 

“Liar?” Louis repeated, meeting her eyes. 

“Yeah, I don’t believe for a second you’ve never played this game. Fuck off with using the Z on the first go. I hate you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Niall laughed loudly, “don’t mind her, Gems takes scrabble way too fucking seriously.”

Then, Niall put down three letters, building off Louis’ T. C-U-N…and Louis and Harry both burst out laughing at the same moment. 

“See!” said Gemma, laughing a little despite herself, “this is the kind of Irish bullshit I was talking about. Cunt is not in Websters, so I award you zero points, Horan.”

Harry plucked a single letter off of his tray and placed an S right at the end of Zygote, smiling first at Louis as innocently as he could, and then looking over to Gemma. 

“21 points,” he said. 

“I hate you all,” Gemma growled, scribbling down Harry’s score despite her words.

 

…

 

When it came time for bed, Louis hesitated in the doorway of Harry’s bedroom, staring at the air mattress in the middle of the floor. Harry’s parents had tried to be as accommodating as possible, and had apologized a load of times about the fact that they didn’t have a proper guest room to offer him. He obviously hadn’t cared, because since the first night he’d ever spent with Harry, they’d always slept pressed together. It was just the norm for them. Gemma had made some comment about how the air mattress was completely unnecessary and Harry had flushed profusely. Having become a lot more enlightened in the past month or so, the comment hadn’t gone over Louis’ head. Maybe it meant something that Harry had always been so willing to share a bed with him. It probably did. 

But, now that it had been mentioned…now it really meant something. Now Louis didn’t know if it was against some kind of etiquette code that he didn’t know about to sleep next to Harry in his childhood bed. Was it something that would upset his parents? He really did need a roadmap. He had no idea how to exist in a family that was so fucking normal. 

So while Harry brushed his teeth in the next room over, Louis crawled onto the air mattress and settled under the blankets. He inhaled deeply, because every fabric in this house seemed to smell so much like Harry. Even the sheets were filled with him, and it was comforting. Even in the midst of a mini-crisis over where he was supposed to fall asleep. 

“Louis?”

Louis looked toward the doorway then, seeing Gemma standing there. “Yeah?”

She tip-toed into the room, throwing a glance over her shoulder and kneeling at the foot of the mattress. She kept her voice hushed. 

“I’m glad you came, yeah? I haven’t see Harry so…” she trailed off, not knowing what word to choose, “well, he’s glowing, you know. He was just so happy you came with him and he hasn’t shut up about you for months and I’m just really happy you’re here. You make him really happy, you know?”

 

…

 

“We should have brought Louis’ car,” Gemma called after Robin and her mum. 

They were hiking through a Christmas tree farm, Robin dead-set on finding the best Christmas tree they could. He’d turned down countless suggestions by all four of them, insisting they were “too fat for for the space” or “too skinny to hold up a single Christmas ball”. They’d been hiking for more than an hour and Gemma had complained several times that Doc Martins were made to look good, not to function practically. She was ready to give up on the whole thing. She’d already pulled out her phone and started searching online for artificial trees. 

“Well, if you were planning on decorating a fern this year, then great idea,” Louis said with a grin. 

“Marsha isn’t exactly known for her trunk space,” Harry clarified. 

“I can’t believe you settled for a car without booty, Louis, I mean seriously.” Gemma bumped Louis with her hip and draped an arm around his shoulders. 

Harry followed suit, wrapping his arm around Louis’ waist, “I will not stand idly by while you take Marsha’s name in vain. She’s good to us, Gems.”

“Not my fault you picked a rich boy with an impractical car,”

“I didn’t pick Marsha,” Louis joked (and really, he hadn’t. She’d shown up when his mother had decided his old BMW was no longer current enough), “Marsha chose _me,”_

Gemma met his eyes, her arm still draped around him, but just as she was about to say something, they heard Robin call them from up ahead. 

“Finally!” said Harry. 

Robin had found the tree, and Gemma managed to keep up her complaints the entire way back to the van, despite the fact that her only contribution was her clinging onto one branch and pretending like that lightened everyone else’s load (it didn’t). 

 

That night, they decorated the tree. Most of the decorations they had were ones that Harry and Gemma had made and painted as children. Anne had made them hot cocoa and Louis sat back on the couch with Robin while Gemma and Harry argued over details about previous christmases as they decorated the tree. Anne just seemed to sort of hover in the doorway, watching everyone and smiling to herself. Eventually, though, she came to sit next to Louis on the sofa. 

“I hope you’re having a nice time. I hope it’s not too different from the Christmases you’re used to.” 

“It’s really different,” admitted Louis softly, smiling as he watched Harry carefully lay bits of tinfoil in Gemma’s hair, “but so good.”

Anne smiled at him, pulling him against her in a loose hug, “we’re all just so glad you wanted to share this with us. Robin and Gemma are always all piss and vinegar when it comes to teasing Harry, but they adore him, you know? Gemma’s bark is a lot worse than her bite, and she’s already pretty fond of you. We all are, really.”

 

…

 

“Lou?”

Louis opened his eyes to the soft whisper of Harry, who was laying next to him in his tiny bed. He was tracing designs on Louis’ arm, tickling it softly. It was the third day he’d woken up inside of that bedroom. The third day that he could honestly say he was looking forward to being awake. He was looking forward to more time with Harry and his family. Every moment had been perfect so far. 

“Mmm,” he managed to say as he stretched his limbs out, “morning,”

Harry’s voice came from behind him, his words blowing across the back of Louis neck. He tried really hard to not get wrapped up in how good it felt, and how every hair on the back of his neck rose up, as if to get as close to Harry as possible. That was a problem for another time. A reoccurring problem…one that Louis had shelved time and time again. 

He would deal with it eventually. He _would._

“Happy Birthday, Louis,” Harry’s voice kind of resembled cotton candy. Which, okay, was a really odd comparison for Louis to jump to, but here he was. Harry’s words were light and fluffy and so sweet sounding that Louis could practically feel a cavity forming. 

He rolled over then, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry looked wide awake, like he’d been awake for ages. “Thanks,” Louis whispered as Harry reached out and pushed his fringe off his face. 

“I hope you’re ready for your day,” Harry seemed full of life, full of all kinds of energy, “you ready to get started?”

“’s Christmas Eve,” Louis said from behind his yawn, “don’t you have some tradition or something?”

Harry shook his head, his smile small but easy and sincere, “nah, today’s for you, Lou.”

 

The thing was, Louis was a December baby. The very worst kind of December baby, too. The kind that always had his day eclipsed by the excitement of Christmas and presents and family gatherings. It had always been like that…even when his gran had been alive, Louis’ birthday just wasn’t something that was properly acknowledged. Maybe he’d just chalked it up to normal since his family would let pretty much any insignificant thing eclipse him, but Harry didn’t want that. He didn’t want to get his traditions in the way of acknowledging Louis’ big day. That was something. Harry was always full of buckets and buckets of sweet gestures. Today was no different. 

But, when he got downstairs, he realized he was wrong. Today was different, because, sitting at the kitchen table was Harry’s entire family. They all yelled out 'Happy Birthday' to him the moment he appeared in the doorway. Robin and Anne got up from their seats and crushed him between them, spouting all kinds of well-wishes. Gemma grinned at him from the far end of the table, rising to hug him when Robin and Anne let him free. 

When he took his place at the table, next to Gemma, he took in the sight before him. There was a pot of tea in the middle of the table, pastries laid out on plates and a big bowl of fresh fruit. Harry opened the oven and carried over a plate stacked high with crepes. He put the plate down in front of Louis. 

“Birthday breakfast!” he announced, grinning as he took his seat next to Louis. 

“Harry…” Louis was speechless, really. He would have been if it had just been him and Harry, but it wasn’t. Harry’s family had woken up early to take part in his surprise breakfast…and Louis had never in his life felt like he fit in anywhere he’d gone. He still felt like he was faking it, like an outsider when he and Zayn stayed up late nights in Zayn’s flat. He still always felt like the other shoe was about to drop whenever he was at Harry and Niall’s…but there was none of that here. He fit. Harry’s family had been nothing but perfect since the moment he’d shown up, and Louis never wanted to leave. 

“My baby brother fancies himself to be a chef almost as much as he fancies you,” said Gemma as she poured tea into Louis’ mug. 

“ _Gemma,”_ Harry hissed, smacking the back of her hand, and his face flushing beet red. 

Well. It wasn’t really a secret anymore, was it? Harry had put it out there, weeks ago and Louis had just been walking along, trying to look in any other direction, but Gemma had a way of being straight to the point that made it harder to ignore. Eventually, he was going to have to deal with it. 

But, its wasn’t eventually yet, so he let Harry change the subject and fell into easy conversation with the rest of his family and just let himself enjoy the moment. 

 

…

 

It was nearly midnight by the time the house quieted down and Harry and Louis finally got a chance to sneak back up to Harry’s room. The day had been filled with amazing moments. Anne had cooked a fantastic lasagne for dinner, on Harry’s recommendation, stating that she’d heard it was Louis’ favourite (it was) (Louis was a sucker for pasta). They’d spent the entire day together, like a family. Like a proper family. The kind that Louis had read dozens of books about, but never actually experienced for himself. They’d gone skating, Gemma skating circles around the rest of them and even attempting some small jumps, citing that she’d never really forgotten all those figure skating classes their parents had put her through. For most of the laps they’d taken, Harry had either leaned on Louis or Robin, barely managing to stay upright on his own for more than 30 seconds. 

They’d finished the day sitting the in living room with a fire lit in the old fire place (with one of those artificial logs, because Harry’s parents only lit the fire place on two days out of the year) and sipping hot toddies. They’d regaled more embarrassing stories about Harry’s youth and his mother boasted that he’d won the school talent show not once, but twice. The first time he’d given a monologue from Les Mis and the second time he’d sang a Justin Bieber song while Niall played guitar (Louis was definitely going to force them to re-enact that moment the second they were back in Doncaster). 

Now, though, Louis was exhausted and his stomach was burning in the most pleasant way from his drink and he was ready to drift off. He was ready to fall asleep in this house that was so full of warmth and people who actually cared about him. And the next morning he was going to wake up next to Harry and they were going to celebrate Christmas properly and Louis was _excited._ He was happy with his decision to let himself give in. He was happy that Terri had told him to go. He was happy he was there in Holmes Chapel with the kind of family he’d always dreamed of, but his could never be. 

He fluffed his pillow up a couple of times before he settled into Harry’s bed, sparing only a glance at the long-since-forgotten air mattress on the floor that was only partially inflated by that point and served mostly as a place to house both his and Harry’s suitcases. On that first night he’d been there, he’d fallen asleep on the air mattress before Harry had even come back into the room, but when he’d woken up, he’d found the familiar press of Harry against his back. That was the moment he decided to give in to that as well. He wasn’t going to pretend like there was suddenly a reason for him and Harry to sleep separately. It wasn’t what he wanted, and it was pretty obvious that it wasn’t what Harry wanted either. 

Just as he closed his eyes, snuggled into the pillow, he heard Harry clear his throat from across the room. He opened his eyes reluctantly, looking up to see Harry with a small package in his hand, wrapped up in shiny blue wrapping paper.

“We’re not done with the birthday things, Lou,” he said, smiling kindly and making his way over to the bed. 

Louis yawned once before sitting upright and accepting the package that Harry handed him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Harry. This has already been the best birthday ever,”

“I know,” said Harry with a smile, “but I wanted to give you something. Something special, like you.”

Louis pulled back the wrapping paper to reveal a leather Moleskine book. It was a normal journal, and when he looked up at Harry he just smiled and said “open it.”

Eagerly, Louis started to flip through the pages. They were all filled with Harry’s handwriting. There were dozens and dozens of poems—all of Louis’ favourites. All the ones that he’d read to Harry time and time again…and Harry had remembered them. He’d remembered them all and compiled them in a beautiful book that had Harry etched into every single page, and Louis had had things in his life. More things than he could ever remember and he’d never cared about any of them. He’d never felt a connection to a single thing in his life, but since Harry showed up, everything had suddenly started to ooze with meaning. Everything mattered to him now. Even his car, once a thing that could have changed any day of the week that just existed to get him form one place to another had become something more. Now _she_ was Marsha and she was a constant reminder that there was someone out there that gave a shit. That gave a lot of shits. 

Gave so many shits in fact, that he'd compiled them all into one neat journal and handed it over to Louis like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

“I don’t actually know what to say,” was the only thing Louis could think to tell Harry.

Harry took the book from his hands and placed it on the bed-side table, crawling past Louis to get to his spot on the bed, “bed?” he asked through his own yawn, and yeah, falling asleep seemed like pretty solid way for Louis to avoid having to answer Harry.

He laid his head back on the pillow and before he’d even finished settling in, he felt Harry wrapping himself around him. Harry was always so solid, so present. No matter what was going on, he never let Louis go. It was almost like he was always trying his best to keep Louis together…

And it was kind of working. Louis was kind of together, and it was mostly because Harry had given him a million reasons to be. 

He let the silence stretch on so long that he was nearly positive that Harry was asleep. He needed to thank him, though. 

“Curly?”

Harry’s lips were pressed into Louis’ hair and he felt them as he spoke, “cheekbones,”

Louis smiled to himself, “thank-you…for everything. For this whole trip, I didn’t know how much I needed this.”

“I did,” Harry sounded just a touch smug, but Louis didn’t mind. 

“Harry?”

“Lou,”

Louis hesitated for a second, “you know me better than I know myself,”

Harry squeezed him tighter, “that’s because you were too scared to take a look at the whole picture. I wasn’t scared. I knew I wanted to know everything. I knew I wasn’t going to be disappointed.”

Louis pondered Harry’s words for a moment, “would you be honest with me?”

“Of course,”

“I never disappointed you?” Louis felt like he was about to jump off a cliff, but Harry was holding him. He was holding him back from the edge and it almost felt like he wasn’t putting his whole soul out there…he was though. Harry was the only person he’d even consider that for. 

“Not for a second,” Harry confirmed and Louis felt like he might break. There were tears threatening to fall, but he tried his hardest to keep them back. 

“No one has ever told me that before, you know? Its always been very engrained in me that I disappoint people. It’s always been who I am.”

“What other people told you, Louis, is _not_ who you are,”

“I want to have more to give you, Harry. I don’t want to disappoint you. I want to give you every single thing you’ve ever wanted because I honestly don’t think I could ever tell you what you’ve been for me. You’re everything. Every single thing I never thought I’d get to have. You’re that thing that I’ve read about in every book. You’re there, in every single poem I read, it all just leads back to you and I don’t know what to do with that most of the time. I’ve just been trying for so long to try to figure out how to be alive, but you’ve shown me how to live and I didn’t realize there was such a difference between living and being alive.”

Harry didn’t speak, he just nuzzled deeper into Louis’ hair, breathing evenly. Louis let things be silent then. Harry didn’t have to answer him. He knew he’d heard. Hell, he’d probably already known all of the things that he’d said before he’d even been ready to say them. 

Finally, once Harry’s breathing slowed and it felt like he was near sleep, Louis broke the silence, his whisper cutting through the air. 

“It was pills,” he said, feeling Harry tighten his grip around him, “that’s what I took that day. Some pills that Matt stole out of an old lady’s purse in the train station and it just felt like the right thing to do. Matt…we’d been staying in some dive motel and he’d hurt me pretty bad and I’d been locked in the bathroom for hours and he just kept threatening me and I didn’t know if I’d ever get out of there,” his voice shook a bit as he took a breath in, “but I got out and I realized that I hated the life I’d chosen. I hated every single thing about it. I didn’t want to be the person that everyone else tried to make me into. I didn’t want to be the fuck up kid with a drug problem and a family that wished he’d never existed…but I didn’t see that there was another option. No one had ever told me there could be, so I just started driving, then I pulled off the highway and swallowed as many as I could and,” there was a wetness pressed against the back of his neck and Harry sniffled. Was Harry actually crying? “and then I woke up in the hospital and Lottie was there and nothing went back to what it was.”

Harry sniffed again removing an arm from Louis so that he could wipe the tears away from his face. Once he resumed holding onto Louis, somehow Louis found more to say. 

“Don’t cry, Harry,” he said, “it’s you, you know? You’re that thing I never had, the thing I didn’t know I was allowed to want. You changed my whole life. That’s not sad. And if I hadn’t almost died? Nothing would have changed. I wouldn’t have gone to class and we wouldn’t have met and my life would still be shit. I’d still be suffering because no one offered me a better option,” he inhaled slowly, “you’re my better option, though, Harry. You’re the only option, really. I know all of this, who you are, being so thoughtful and kind and everything, I know that comes naturally for you, but it never did for me. I never knew how to like, properly love anything, let alone myself. But now I feel all kinds of things that I never thought I’d get to feel, and they’re not for anyone else, Harry. It’s all you. It’s just you.”

It wasn’t like Harry to not have anything more to offer. It wasn’t like him to let Louis monologue for so long, but he hadn’t said a peep. Louis could still feel the wetness of tears against his neck, so he granted Harry some time. It didn’t feel like Harry was leaving him hanging. It didn’t feel like he was purposefully ignoring his words and not giving him validation. It was okay. Harry needed time, and he’d been patient enough to give Louis nothing but that. 

Finally, as the excitement of the day and the exhaustion of cutting himself open for Harry started to weigh him down, he felt sleep pulling at the back of his eyelids. He shut them and let himself succumb to the call sleep. He needed to recharge. He needed to wake up in the same happy place he’d spent the last few days. He didn’t want to get caught up in the memories of his pain, because pain didn’t exist here. Not in this place he was in with Harry and Harry’s family. 

As he started to drift, he remembered earlier that night when Lottie had FaceTimed him and wished him a happy birthday. Just before she’d hung up she’d said ‘ _miss you Louis. Love you.’_ And for the first time in his entire life, he hadn’t thought about his response. ‘ _Love you, too, Lots.’_ He hadn’t thought about it, because he was wrapped in a place where familial love ran strong and boisterously through the hallways and it was impossible to ignore. The thing was, he did love Lottie. It was the first time in his life he’d ever actually felt that feeling, but there was no other way to describe it. It was the same as Harry and Gemma…and _Louis_ got to feel it and it was kind of fucking incredible. 

Harry, on the other hand? There had to be a word for it. There had to be a way to sum up the person that quite literally changed his life and gave him a burning desire to be alive. It wasn’t the same, though, what he felt for Harry and Lottie. They were vastly different emotions—things that couldn’t possibly be summed up by the same word. 

“You know how I feel,” Harry’s voice came soft and slow from behind him. 

He wasn’t really sure if he was dreaming yet, or if he was just paralyzed in that strange place between sleep and wakefulness. He couldn’t move and he wasn’t certain that he wanted to. He was trapped between the conscious and the unconscious and Harry had no idea he was still there. That became even more obvious as he felt Harry’s hands migrate from their place around his torso. He ran his fingers softly through Louis’ hair, across his jawline and Louis’ heart was beating out of control. Harry ran a tentative finger across Louis’ bottom lip and he sighed softly against Louis’ neck. 

Louis was absolutely positive that Harry was convinced that he wasn’t awake when he felt Harry’s lips press softly against the back of his neck. He laid a soft, chaste kiss there, and then laid a second one just above that, and then a third. If Louis hadn’t been completely paralyzed, he was sure he would have shaken as the chills ran down his spine. 

“Oh, Lou,” Harry said almost too softly for Louis to hear, he kissed the place just behind Louis’ ear before he continued, “we’re in love, aren’t we?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real-talk, though, I'm getting closer and closer to the end of this story. I was kind of running blind for a bit, not really sure what I was looking at length wise. I'm estimating about 6-7 more chapters and an epilogue. I'm excited for you all to finally see what I've had planned ending-wise, basically since I started this beast. 
> 
> Come at me on Instagram with any thoughts, feelings or emotional outbursts @feels.like.home01
> 
> Love you all xx
> 
> <3


	21. XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY. 
> 
> I'm so so so so so so SO sorry that it took me this effing long to post this chapter.
> 
> Having said that, I really think you guys are going to like this one. Its a beast, but I hope that at least makes up for the fact that I'm a trash writer that has taken 10 years to post this chapter. I hope you forgive me!
> 
> xx

Fuck. 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

If Louis hadn't imagined what he'd heard last night, it meant he was totally fucked. Somehow, he'd fallen down the rabbit hole. He was so gone in this thing with Harry. It was nearly impossible for him to ignore now. Time and time again it just kept resurfacing and no matter how much he didn't want to deal with it, it was making its presence known. 

It was there no matter how hard he tried to look in any other direction. 

He was fucked. 

He was fucked because try as he may to think about literally anything else, the instinct didn't leave him. He was fucked because he couldn't stop falling. For his entire life, Louis had done nothing but fight for control and fail to grasp it, and this was just another example. This was him losing yet another battle. 

The worst of it was that he didn't have a clue how to do it. He didn't know if he could do it. There was a very real possibility that Harry would just be another thing he wanted that he couldn't have, another thing that he'd fail at. He'd already made so many mistakes. He'd already tried to break them so many times that he couldn't possibly trust himself to do it right. There was just no way that this was the kind of thing he was cut-out for. He was probably doomed to fail and the absolute worst part about that reality would be losing Harry. Losing him in all the ways he'd come to need him. 

So, in short, Louis was fucked and his and Harry's days were probably numbered. Harry was going to either give up on him when he realized that Louis wouldn't give him the things he wanted, or he was going to try to give Harry those things and it wouldn't be enough. 

Either way, he would lose Harry and that was the very worst reality he could have ever made for himself. 

 

....

 

Louis was sitting next to Robin on the sofa, watching as Gemma and Harry sat in front of the Christmas tree, handing out presents as they read the name tags. He was nervous for the moment that Harry found the envelope with his name on it. There was a very big possibility that Harry was going to try not to accept it, but Louis didn't want that. He wanted to see Harry smile and say 'thank you' and then hear all about how excited he was. 

Before that happened, Gemma picked up a small package wrapped in sparkly red paper and handed it to Louis. Harry smiled at brightly, gesturing for him to open it. Slowly, while everyone else watched, Louis peeled back the wrapping paper. A soft feeling he didn't recognize flushed through him as he looked down at the hard covered book he'd unveiled. _Love is a Dog from Hell_. It was his favourite Bukowski book. He looked up and met Harry's eyes. 

"It's the first edition," explained Harry. 

"It's perfect," said Louis, a smile set on his face. A fond smile. He couldn't see himself, but he was pretty sure that with the way Gemma was looking at him and Anne was grinning at him that he was giving himself away. 

But fuck it, he didn't care—not really. 

Somehow Harry had managed not one, but two perfect gifts in the last two days and it was pretty astounding. All of his life, Louis had always had every _thing_ he ever wanted and it had never mattered. None of it had ever affected him, and then here was Harry… Somehow he'd managed to shape his thoughtfulness into things that mattered. Things that Louis knew he would cherish years down the road. It was kind of amazing that Harry knew, somehow, what would matter to him. 

Louis clutched the book against his chest, his smile not faltering for a second. 

"Open yours next?" 

Gemma smiled then, plucking the envelope with Harry's name on it off of one of the branches on the tree. She handed it to him and Louis watched, clutching the book tighter to his chest, as Harry opened the envelope. He pulled out the first two pieces, staring at them for a long moment with confusion in his eyes. 

"What _is_ it?" Asked Gemma, impatiently. 

"Tickets," Harry said, his voice uncertain, "to Wicked..."

"Wicked?" Asked Gemma with confusion.

"On Broadway..." Harry finally looked up then, meeting Louis' eyes. There were a million questions in his eyes, "I don't understand..."

Louis gestured to the envelope, "that's not everything," he explained softly. 

Harry's eyes held suspicion in them, but he reached back into the envelope and pulled out two more pieces of paper. He seemed to read them over and over before he finally looked up and met Louis' eyes. 

"Louis..."

The whole room was silent as Harry stared at Louis trying to find something to say.

"Well, go in then, what is it!" Said Gemma. 

"Tickets," he said, his voice quiet and his skin white as a ghost. 

"For what?"

"Plane tickets... to New York.”

A hush fell across the room, and for a solid minute, no one did anything besides stare at Louis. He wondered if he hadn’t taken this whole Christmas thing just a touch too far. Maybe, to a happily normal family like Harry’s, this gift was too much. Maybe it made Louis look like he was bragging, like he was flaunting his ability to go overboard. He felt a flush creep up his neck and the temperature in the room _must_ have gone up several degrees and _everyone was still looking at him._ It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, no matter how well intended he had been, he’d been wrong. In hindsight maybe he should have gotten Harry a ticket to a show in London and called it a day…but Harry’s eyes glittered when he talked about New York. Louis could give that to him. He could _do_ that, and there wasn’t a whole lot of things that he _could_ properly give to Harry…and he wanted to do this. He wanted to do something right to make up for all the ways he’d messed up. 

Finally, while everyone was still staring at Louis, Harry broke the silence. 

“Louis, I don’t know what to say…”

Harry was always the picture of confidence. He was always leading the way through treacherous terrain, Louis stumbling behind him and struggling to keep up, to understand. This was different though. Harry didn’t know how to take this. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. 

Gemma put her hand on Harry’s shoulder, successfully breaking the trance he seemed to be in, “you say ‘thank you’, she said quietly, “and then you don’t hold it against me that all I got you was a pair of boots.”

Harry put all of the tickets back into the envelope and got to his feet, seeming a bit uneasy. He marched straight over to Louis. He still wasn’t smiling, still wasn’t giving any indication that Louis had done something right. There was a pile of nerves in Louis’ stomach and a really large part of him was starting to accept the idea that maybe his gift was offensive. That he’d made Christmas all about that money he had—the money that Harry didn’t have. 

And he hadn’t meant it that way. Not for a second. He’d wanted to give Harry something that was worthy. Something that would last, something that was enough of a gesture to show that, yeah, he was still fucked up and miles behind where Harry wanted him to be, but he cared. He cared a lot and he’d just wanted Harry to know that. 

Finally, Harry was standing in front of him. He reached out his hand to Louis and Louis grasped onto it quickly. He wasn’t really sure where this was going to go, but he let Harry pull him to his feet. Once he was standing, Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Louis. He buried his face against Louis neck and inhaled deeply. 

“There’s no way I can possibly thank you for this kind of gift,” Harry whispered softly and Louis was very aware that Gemma and Robin and Anne were all watching this moment unfold. They were watching as Harry buried his face into Louis’ neck and pressed his words there, but regardless of the audience, Louis lifted his own arms and gave Harry a tight squeeze. 

“It’s just _things,_ Harry. Just money. You gave me so many better things every day. It was the least I could do,” Louis kept his voice low, but he was pretty sure everyone else in the room had probably heard him. But he didn’t care. He was trying his best, and that had to count for something. 

 

…

 

After they'd finished dinner, Louis had sat next to Harry on the floor by the fireplace while they listened to Gemma and his parents regale stories of Christmases through the years. It was a kind of calming backing track to the chaos that was going on inside of Louis' head. Things seemed to be changing and it had been so gradual that for a long while he was able to look in a different direction, but now he found that Harry was the only direction he was able to look in. Even in that moment, sat right by Harry's entire family, the only thing he could think about was the distance between them. The distance he didn't want there to be. He wanted to be brave enough to close it and smart enough to know what would happen once he did. 

He wished that there had been some point in his life where he'd had some kind of example of what to do. Everyone he knew was fucked up. His entire family life had been based in relationships that were fleeting and terrible. His father had never been around, and that made it impossible for he and his mother to somehow set and example. Then following all of that, once his dad had come into the picture it had been awful. Even in a house the size as their's, he'd managed to hear the battles. He'd also watched as his mother found Dan and practically forced his dad out the door. And it's not like Dan was much better. He was too young and too hot-headed to be in a normal relationship. 

Yeah, he had nothing to base what he wanted on. He knew what he never wanted to happen with Harry, and that was all the scenarios he'd lived through in his life. 

Harry got to his feet then, stretching his arms above his head yawning. He walked over to his mum and Robin. He hugged them both and announced he was heading to bed. 

Louis started to get to his feet to follow Harry upstairs. Harry had only taken one step out of the room, Louis trailing behind before he heard Anne's voice. 

"Louis can I talk to you for a minute?" Louis froze in his spot. Harry didn't seem to notice. He continued on his way up the stairs without glancing back to see what Louis was doing. 

"That's my cue to leave," said Gemma, "'night everyone." 

Gemma ran up the stairs after Harry. Robin didn't say a word as he rose from his seat next to Anne and walked into the kitchen. Louis' heart was in his throat, despite the fact that so far, this whole visit had been nothing but positive and Anne had done nothing but make him feel welcome. He didn't know what she might possibly have to say to him. 

"Have a seat," she said, patting the spot next to her. 

Louis obeyed immediately. He'd barely sat down before she started speaking. 

"What you did today, for Harry? That was really something, Louis," she paused, thinking of her next words, "I can't pretend to know how things usually are for you at Christmas, but you're here with us and I think that's all I need to know," Louis tried not to read what she was saying as an accusation, "your background is different from Harry's and I could never give him what you just did and I don't think any of us could sum up how grateful we are,"

Louis took a deep breath, "I know it was a lot," he started, "but Harry is a lot, too."

Anne smiled fondly at him and he let out the air in his lungs, attempting to smile back. 

"Having Harry for a son has been the stuff of dreams. I haven't ever met anyone with a heart more pure than his," Louis was nodding along with her words because he'd waited his entire life just to know someone like Harry, "and what you gave to him is something I never could and like I said, I don't know your background and it might not be a lot for you, but it means a lot to everyone here.”

“Harry has done a lot for me,” admitted Louis softly and he could barely get over how brave he was being in that moment. He was getting so close to Harry’s mum, opening up and it was strange that that whole thing happened so naturally. 

“You know,” said Anne, “all any parent really wants is to see their kids happy. With Harry, i’ve always been able to trust his judgement. He’s always been a good kid, even though things weren’t always easy for him, he always seemed to wind up on the positive swing of things, but I can honestly say that I was terrified when he said he wanted to follow Niall to Doncaster. I didn’t know what to expect,” she paused, “but things have worked out better than I’d let myself hope. Like I said, all I ever wanted was to see Harry happy and I think that moving away and meeting you had really made him come alive. Thank you Louis for meaning so much to our boy and for being so good for him.”

 

…

 

Louis’ hand was just hovering over the doorknob to Harry’s room when he heard Gemma whisper his name. He turned around quickly to see her standing in the doorway of her bedroom. 

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Louis nodded and walked into her bedroom. She shut the door behind him and before he had a second to ask what was going on, he felt her pull him into a tight hug. She squeezed him for a moment before pulling back and holding his shoulders firmly. 

“You’re better than I would have imagined,” she said softly and Louis felt more than a little confused. He wasn’t sure what was going on. Instinctually, he had thought Gemma was going to chastise him for something, but this was the opposite and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that. 

“Harry and I talk a lot, and I’ve heard a lot about you, but if I’m honest you weren’t exactly what I had expected. All the other guys Harry has been interested in have been losers. You’re the complete opposite and I really thought he was over-selling you, but I can see now that that wasn’t the case,” she paused and pinched Louis cheek, “and fuck if you two aren’t the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Anyway, you have my blessing.”

Alright. Gemma was officially on the list of people who thought that he and Harry were a thing. 

Fuck. 

Harry was on that list, too, and Louis was still trying to keep up with how fast things seemed to be moving in that direction. It was starting to snowball and Louis was having a really hard time not getting sucked right into the centre of it. Even _if_ it was something that he wanted (which he didn’t know because he hadn’t had a second to sit back and think about it—he wasn’t even sure that he _wanted_ to think about it though) he didn’t know how to approach it, and he really wasn’t sure that being locked up in Gemma’s room while Harry was trying to sleep across the hall was the time or the place for any of that. 

“Um,” said Louis, not knowing where his words were going to take him. 

“No, I get it, you’re taking it slow or whatever and maybe I’m not helping things by being…myself,” she laughed, “but I see it. I see how he looks at you and I see how you look at him and I’m just so glad for it. I’m so glad that for once in that boy’s life things are mutual.”

 

…

 

Louis opened the door to Harry’s bedroom slowly, trying his hardest to be quiet. He wasn’t sure if Harry was asleep because after the conversation he’d had with Anne followed by the one he’d had with Gemma a lot of time had passed. Louis felt strange. He felt like he was existing in a world where everyone else knew what was going on but him. He felt out of the loop, and that was normal when it came to his family and things of that nature—but this was _him._ This was everyone talking about him and his feelings and expecting that he knew what any of it meant. He was out of the loop on something that was directly about him and it was a strange feeling. He didn’t know if he’d even be able to find something to say to Harry. 

They hadn’t really had much time alone since he’d heard Harry say the words the previous night and he still wasn’t sure how he was going to broach the entire thing. He wasn’t sure if he could talk about it. If he was ready to let Harry know that he’d heard. 

The thing was, Harry had tried _so hard_ since Louis had apologized to him. Harry had tried to keep his every movement casual, to keep his feelings locked up inside where Louis couldn’t feel them and Louis felt awful about the whole thing. It wasn’t how things were supposed to go and he knew that. He knew all of that—but the risk was too big. If he admitted that he maybe entertained the idea that Harry could be more than just his best friend then he’d have to face it. He’d have to try and he’d risk the very likely outcome of failure. Keeping Harry at arms length was the easier (and more selfish) way of dealing with things. He’d waited for so long to have someone like Harry and he didn’t want to lose it. He didn’t want to take that risk. 

He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to avoid it, though. Not with the way that everyone around them kept talking. It was only a matter of time before Harry demanded more of him. 

It didn’t have to be now, though. 

Slowly and as quietly as he could, Louis peeled back the covers and slid into bed next to Harry. The air mattress was a long forgotten deflated mess on the floor and Louis would be lying to himself if he even considered pretending that’s where he ought to sleep. Louis laid as straight and rigid as possible, not daring to wake up Harry. He laid his head on the pillow, laying on his back and resting his hands on his stomach. He’d barely settled in before he heard a quiet ‘hey’ from the boy next to him. He felt his palms start to sweat and his heart started to beat faster and sleep was suddenly the furthest thing from his mind. 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” he whispered back softly.

“You didn’t,” He felt Harry turn onto his side so he was facing Louis, “I was waiting for you,”

Louis didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to sort out what was happening to his body. He was suddenly very warm despite the fact that it was winter outside. His chest felt like it was full of an entire swarm of butterflies and he couldn’t figure out what was going on in the pit of his stomach. The thing was that Harry didn’t always make him nervous. Not like this anyway, but the more he started to churn away at the knowledge of the way things between them seemed to be destined to change, the worse it got. He couldn’t even attempt to name all of the times that he’d been this close to Harry without a single thought. It was how they’d been for so long and there had been a time when Louis might have described being close with Harry the most comfortable place he’d ever been.

But this was not that time. 

This time he was sweating and jittery and he didn’t think he could form a single coherent word because he’d just sat next to Anne while she’d sang his praises and listened to Gemma while she told him how good he and Harry were for each other. She’d commented on the way he looked at Harry and before that moment he hadn’t even been sure that he looked at Harry any different than he did anyone else. But there had to be some truth there because he didn’t really _look_ at anyone else. He didn’t make eye contact with people when he spoke to them—but Harry was different. Harry made him feel different. He made him act before thinking and that was something that Louis had never imagined he’d do. Maybe Harry made him more himself than anyone else ever had. 

Louis didn’t know what to do with that fact. 

Louis didn’t bother trying to search for words to say to Harry because he knew Harry would lead him. He knew there had to be a reason why Harry had sat in his bed and waited for Louis to come back. There was something on his mind and Louis would be a fool to think that they weren’t going to talk about it. 

He felt Harry’s hand slide across his tummy until he reached Louis’ hand. Harry wound his fingers through Louis’ and Louis was just about to force out an apology for how sweaty he was but he was distracted by the pleasant shiver that ran down his spine and left a cool chill to his moistened skin. He kind of felt like he had a fever, but he kind of also knew that Harry was probably the cause of that fever. 

“Thank you,” Harry’s voice was soft and he squeezed Louis hand in his, “thank you, thank you,”

He must be talking about the Christmas present. Louis thanked every deity he could think of that Harry wasn’t trying to talk about the things that his entire family seemed to be hung up on before responding, “so you’re not mad?”

“I thought about being mad,” said Harry, snorting out a small laugh, “but I know you’re not like that. You’re not trying to flaunt the whole being rich thing in my face and it would be stupid of me to think like that. I get it. Lavish vacations aren’t a big deal to you,” Harry laughed again, “but, like, you know its a big deal to me, right? The furthest I’ve ever been was a weekend in Ireland,”

“I just wanted to give you something you wanted. Something maybe no one else could give you,”

Harry sighed and Louis could actually hear the fondness behind the exhale and it terrified him, “you do that every day, though,” Harry’s voice felt like honey, “you give me you.” 

 

…

 

Louis pulled into his spot and put Marsha into park and leaned back in his seat and released a sigh he’d been holding in for most of his visit to Holmes Chapel. The thing was, the whole trip had been amazing. He might have known that Harry’s family would be the nicest bunch of people he’d ever met, but a part of him still hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t imagined that he’d feel so much like he belonged there. There was something about being in Harry’s presence, though, that made him open up in unexpected ways. He hadn’t expected for it to be so easy to talk to Harry’s mum or Robin. He had never imagined a point in his life where he’d be able to sit in a room full of people and not feel like he wanted to crawl his way out of his skin. He never imagined that there would be a place where he could feel so comfortable with so many people around him. Harry had created multiple safe places for him. 

But, the week had taken its toll on Louis. He needed a minute alone to consider how things seemed to be changing without his permission. There seemed to be an endless amount of moments between them recently that felt like neither of them were saying everything they wanted to. Louis had the feeling he was holding back, but he didn’t know what letting go would look like, so it wasn’t worth the risk. Harry, on the other hand, had proven that there were things he was holding back. The quiet whisper of his words tickling the back of Louis’ neck _we’re in love, aren’t we?_ seemed to be on an endless loop in Louis’ mind. He couldn’t think about much else. 

He was missing something and he thought that maybe the world was trying to tell him exactly what that something might be. 

It was terrifying and before he could even think of making a decision either way he needed some time alone to at least try to clear his mind. 

Louis unlocked the back door of his house and slipped in quietly. His family wasn’t due back until after New Years which was still three days away. He was going to have the house to himself and he was grateful. Some part of him missed the solitude that he’d been used to for most of his life. It was what he was used to, and it helped to clear his mind since there seemed to be so many bigger things happening in his life. 

He hadn’t even taken one full step onto the staircase before he heard his mother’s voice and a chill ran down his spine. 

“Where have you _been?_ ” she demanded. 

Fear prickled down Louis spine. She had startled him because she wasn’t supposed to be home. She was supposed to be in Spain and where was everyone else? Why was she the only one there? He turned around to face her as she stood in the doorway of her office with her arms folded across her chest. 

Of course things would go like this. Wasn’t he used to it by now? He’d had an amazing week where he was surrounded by people who made him feel like a real living human being. Who knew how long his mother had been back home. Who knew how long she’d been waiting for him to walk back through the door so she could corner him and accuse him of who knew what. Drugs, of course. It would always come down to that. 

“You’re home,” were the first words out of his mouth. 

“Where have you _been_ Louis? Just because we left doesn’t give you permission to disappear for days on end,”

There was something different to the way his mother had been approaching him recently. And if he wasn’t so used to the typical way she berated him, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. But she was breaking script. There was a hint of something else behind her words. He wasn’t really sure what that something was, but he was breaking script now, too. For once in his life he wasn’t making bad decisions and he didn’t have anything to hide. He also didn’t have anything to lose. There was no point to just ignore her and roll over and accept the accusations. Terri was right. He _had_ worked hard to be the person he was now. He wasn’t going to let her take that away. 

“Where did you _go?”_ she demanded. 

“Cheshire,” he responded dryly, putting his suitcase down on the first step. 

“What on earth were you doing in Cheshire?” he could see the crease between her brows as she tried to wrap her head around the way that he wasn’t sinking to the ground with her words. He was standing up for himself in a way that he never had. 

Louis hadn’t even consciously realized that he had some new-found level of self confidence until that exact second. He hadn’t known he was going to stand up for himself, but he was and he had nothing to hide. This was new. 

“It was Christmas,” he said, like that answered the question. 

“Who were you with? Matthew?” she was grasping for control, but she didn’t have it. 

“Harry,” he said watching as the recognition settled into her eyes. He hadn’t done anything wrong and she had nothing to be mad at him over and he’d successfully changed their entire dynamic. 

He’d done that. 

He’d gotten the upper hand simply by finally making a sound decision in his life. It felt good. 

“Harry took you to Cheshire for Christmas?” she was astounded, like she couldn’t believe that there was actually a person out there who gave an actual shit about her son. That there was someone who couldn’t stomach the idea of him sitting alone through the holidays. 

He nodded once, not really knowing what else to say. this wasn’t the trap that he’d expected to fall into when he’d finally gotten home. He’d been so looking forward to the solitude that this sudden conflict left him feeling ill-prepared. 

“What _is_ Harry to you?” her words didn’t have a bite to them. They held a genuine curiosity and Louis thought back to the day that his mum had met Harry and the way she’d smiled kindly at him like he was a lighthouse in the middle of the darkness that was her troubled son. 

Louis bit down on the inside of his lip. He knew what Terri would say—what anyone with any rationale would say. They would tell him that he didn’t owe her anything. That there was no need for an explanation when she’d left him to fend for himself in every possible way for his entire life. 

But the thing was, she was doing it again. Whether or not it was a triggering question for him that he was trying _very_ hard not to address in every aspect of his life, she was showing interest in him. This wasn’t just about how he was fucking up or a passing comment about her being pleased with his grades. This was a question about _his life_. His relationship that he’d formed without her knowledge. She was mad that he was no longer transparent. That she couldn’t see everything in his life because he wasn’t spiralling. He was growing and changing and he had someone in his life who cared and his mother couldn’t fathom how it had happened without her knowledge. 

The spiteful part of him wanted to turn around and walk up the stairs and tell her that he didn’t owe her anything. The child in him wanted to break and ask her to take a moment out of her life to just be a parent. To listen, to tell him what to do. To advise him about what Harry should be to him. 

Instead, he braved eye contact with her, staring into her blue eyes that he was so used to seeing every day of his life in the mirror. He had come from her and he wasn’t really sure how that could be possible given the dynamic they’d shared for his entire life. Given the example of what a parent _should_ be that Anne had now set for him. He both loathed his mother for not giving it to him and wanted to change it. He wanted to have his own Anne. 

“He’s Harry,” Louis said with a hint of finality to his voice. 

He didn’t owe her anything more, and he had to keep reminding himself of that as he turned around and walked away up the stairs with her calling after him. 

 

…

 

 

“I need you to explain something to me,” Louis said while bouncing his leg up and down nervously. He was a wreck. And what was worse was that he was a different sort of wreck. This wasn’t the sort of crisis he was used to. 

“First,” started Terri, “explain to me what happened this week. You canceled on me,”

“Oh,” said Louis. He’d forgotten about that, swept up in the happy chaos of Holmes Chapel. He’d never cancelled a session before. 

“You didn’t email me, either. I was worried about you,”

Louis took a deep breath through his nose, “I went to Harry’s,” 

Terri grinned brightly, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis was trying really hard to fight the smile that was threatening to burst through. He didn’t know what it was about all things Harry that he wanted to keep away from Terri. He just could t handle the notion that he might fuck the whole thing up and leave her disappointed. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Louis,” she couldn’t hide the shimmer of pride that was glittering in her eyes. Louis tucked away that knowledge. He didn’t have a lot of moments in his life where people were proud of his decisions and he’d probably need to obsessively return to this memory as many times as he could. “How was it?”

Louis slipped up then, he smile breaking through despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. “Really good,”

“Knew it,” Terri said cheerfully, “you should probably take my advice on everything a little bit more seriously,”

“Sod off,”Louis said with a small chuckle. 

“Now,” said Terri, “what was it you were demanding an explanation on when you marched in?”

“I just need you to explain something to me,”

“And what would that something be?”

Louis took a deep breath, because he knew this was something he had to talk to Terri about. No one else was going to be able to help him. In fact, if he asked anyone else, namely Harry, it would probably just make matters worse. 

“Love,” 

Terri’s eyes widened at the word. 

“That’s a pretty hard thing to explain, Louis,”

“Well, I just need to know why it’s supposed to mean something different when Lottie says it than what it means if someone else does,”

Terri looked at him for a moment and he was pretty sure she was going to ask clarifying questions that he didn’t think he would answer. Then she inhaled a slow breath, “I think that the English language is extremely limited,” she began, “it’s hard for people understand that there is a difference between loving a family member and being in love because we only have one word. There is a difference, though and it’s good that you can see that. What sparked the question?”

“Do you really think I’m going to answer that?”

“Was it Harry?”

Louis huffed, “again, do you really think I’m going to answer that?”

Terri eyed him closely for a moment, as though she thought that he might change his mind. He wasn’t going to, though because there was too much risk involved. Telling Terri what he thought he’d heard Harry say on his birthday would be too much. What if it was just another social cue that he’d misunderstood. What if Harry didn’t mean it differently than Lottie? Louis continued to be confused about the whole thing. He was confused about Harry’s feelings and even more confused about his own. He’d still done everything he could to ignore the now familiar burning sensation in his stomach every time Harry’s hand so much as brushed him. Louis was probably going to explode eventually with all the tension that was building inside of him. He wasn’t excited for that day to come. 

“Well,” said Terri once she’d finally abandoned the idea that he might answer, “for me, I knew I was in love when I finally met someone who made me feel good in my own skin. He made me feel good in a way that no one ever had.”

Louis hesitated, he didn’t know why he’d started this conversation. He didn’t know where he was trying to go. He had been in a constant state of panic since the day he’d heard Harry’s words. The worst was that it didn’t even sound like a confession. Harry had made it sound like a fact. A fact that maybe everyone but Louis was aware of and he didn’t know what to do with that. We’re in love, aren’t we?

What on earth was he supposed to do with a question like that. He’d never dealt with anything even close to love in his twenty one years on the planet. 

“Louis?” Terri’s voice was soft. 

Louis shook his thoughts from his head. 

“Can you be honest with me?”

“I’m never _dishonest_ ,” Louis reminded her gently. 

She smiled a bit, but the seriousness didn’t leave her eyes, “will you maybe not withhold?”

“Maybe,” said Louis, because _maybe_  there was a point of crisis where he might be willing to put his pride aside. Maybe. 

“Did Harry tell you he loves you?”

Louis could feel his cheeks flaming once the words were out there in the world. He’d had a lot of moments that made him feel like he was in the hot seat. Like the world around him was crumbling and somehow it was all his fault. He didn’t know that it was possible to feel this level of embarrassment. Terri had said it and it just felt like salt in the wound, because even when posed as a direct question he didn’t have an answer. 

“No,” he said and he could hear the mournful tone to his voice, “I mean, I don’t think so,” he huffed out a hard sigh, “I don’t know. I think he thought I was asleep,”

“So he did say it. He just doesn’t know you heard,”

Louis kind of wanted to bolt out the door. His skin was burning and he felt stupid and embarrassed. He didn’t know how to explain what he thought he’d heard. He was probably wrong about the whole thing and the thing was, he had a stupid amount of hope that he wasn’t. The more time passed since Harry’s first attempt at a confession, the more and more he realized that he had his own feelings. Feelings that seemed to burn like a wildfire through him the more he thought about the possibility of Harry’s own feelings. It was exhausting trying to both navigate them and figure out what he was even entitled to. 

“He didn’t say it, not like that, anyway,” Louis finally managed. 

Terri smiled a timid smile at him, surely trying not to push him too hard, “what _did_ he say, then? And how do you feel about it?”

Louis swallowed the bile rising in this throat, “I feel confused. I feel stupid things that I’m probably not supposed to and I feel like I’m bound to be disappointed by the whole thing,”

“Why?” Terri’s voice was even softer than usual. 

“Because I’ll probably just fuck it all up. It’s what happens,”

“Based on what experience?” Her eyes were kind, like she knew already that she was treading on thing ice, “you’ve never done this before. Its normal that you’d be apprehensive, but do you remember what I told you before? About expecting to be let down? Someone is bound to surprise you, whether it be Harry or yourself. Some things work out. They just do. There’s no sense in expecting things to go badly. I’d think if Harry has taught you anything, it’s that he isn’t like everyone else.”

“Right,” agreed Louis almost too quietly to hear, “which is why I know I don’t deserve him.”

Once the words had left his mouth the regret was instant. He’d admitted too much. Terri was going to run with it and all Louis wanted to do was run in any other direction. He hadn’t expected that Harry would give him so much—so much that it was nearly impossible to deal with. He didn’t know what he was doing, and the only advice Terri ever seemed to give was too hard to follow. It was too hard to imagine himself being with anyone—let alone Harry. Regardless of the things that everyone around him had said, he couldn’t see it. 

The way he figured it, if all of the other people in his life were shit and still didn’t give him their respect, why on earth would a person as perfect as Harry ever give him the time of day?

“Louis,” Terri’s voice broke through his spiralling thoughts, “you need to stop with the idea that you don’t deserve things. I know you’ve thought that way for a long time, but if you met anyone else in the same situation as you, I’m sure you wouldn’t think the same. Everyone deserves to be loved, whether its by Lottie or your friend Zayn or if its the kind of love that Harry could give to you, you deserve it. You’re a human being and you're a good person. All I want for you is for you to be able to accept it when it comes your way.”

 

…

 

Louis was sitting on the couch next to Zayn in Harry and Niall’s flat. Zayn was telling stories about his sisters over the Christmas break and Louis was laughing at all the appropriate times, but he was also distracted because the apartment was packed with people. It was New Year’s Eve and Niall and Harry were throwing a massive party. There were a ton of people that Louis hadn’t seen before that night and a handful of faces that he recognized. One of those faces was Nick and he was trying really hard to pay attention to anything else but the way that Nick moved by Harry. Harry was walking around the room and engaging all of the guests equally, but Nick wasn’t leaving his side. 

The thing was, by that point Louis knew what he was feeling. He knew that it wasn’t fair and that it was completely unfounded because he’d spent an entire week with no one but Harry and Harry hadn’t even so much as mentioned Nick’s name. There was no reason for him to be boiling over with jealousy—but he was. His skin prickled with it and it was ruining his night. He’d missed Zayn and the handful of texts they’d shared in the past few days hadn’t been enough. He _wanted_ to be engaged in the conversation. He wanted to ask questions about Liam and Zayn’s family but he was so fucking distracted by Nick’s right hand and how it never seemed to leave the small of Harry’s back. 

“You know Harry doesn’t give a fuck about Nick, right?” 

Zayn’s question broke through the cloud of rage that Louis was lost in and instantly made his cheeks heat with a blush. He wanted to brush off the comment, but he wasn’t sure how to do that without making it sound like he was lying, because he would be lying. Because he _didn’t_ know that Harry didn’t give a fuck about Nick because Harry hadn’t once asked Nick to move his hand. Hadn’t indicated that he wanted Nick to sod off. 

“He’s just too nice to say anything,” Zayn continued, “that and the person he wants that attention from has yet to wake the fuck up,”

“I can’t believe I wasted time missing you,” responded Louis, finally looking away from Nick. 

Zayn rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah. I’m always the bad guy for telling you the things you need to hear,” his lips were quirking in a small smile, “sorry you have your head so far up your arse that you need someone who can tell you where it should be,”

It was Louis’ turn this time to roll his eyes. He needed to change the subject. He was sick of being in the hot seat, even though that seemed to always be the way it was with Zayn. 

“How’s Liam?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips. 

Zayn scoffed and reached for his drink, taking a large gulp, “beats me,” he said. 

“So…things between you aren’t better since you—” 

Zayn cut him off, “shagged?”

Louis laughed a bit at the words and Zayn laughed a hearty laugh, “er,” managed Louis. 

“No,” said Zayn, “things aren’t better since we shagged. They never are, though, so can’t say I’m surprised, really.”

Zayn relaxed into the couch. He never seemed to have the same trepidation that Louis did about baring his heart and Louis kind of envied him for that. “You seem so unaffected,” he noted quietly. 

Zayn shrugged at that, “yeah,” he said, “I guess I’m just kind of used to it by now. Don’t even know what I see in him most of the time. I guess assholes are just kind of my ish.”

Louis laughed again just as Harry _finally_ looked over to him. Louis felt his chest flutter in a horribly uncomfortable way as Harry smiled and gave him a small wave. Louis smiled back, no doubt blushing like the giant idiot that he was. Harry never seemed to mind though, and to be fair, Harry had been doing more than his fair share of blushing recently, too. Namely whenever one of his family members made a comment about his and Louis’ relationship. That meant something and Louis was sure of that. 

“You two are so fucking sweet I’m actually getting a cavity,” said Zayn, kicking Louis’ shin.

“He’s my best friend,” said Louis and the words felt stupid and out of place. They never had before that, though and Louis was having a really hard time denying that there seemed to be something in the air. There was something different about that night and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was the first night he’d been to Harry’s since they’d come back from Holmes Chapel. Harry had been working a lot to make up for the week he’d taken off and Louis hadn’t seen much of him. 

All he had done, really, in the three days since he’d last seen Harry was think. He’d thought about the moments that had passed between them and he thought about the words that Terri had said to him. Namely the part where she’s explained that she knew she was in love because she’d met someone who made her feel comfortable in her skin. Harry made Louis feel comfortable in a way that no one else did—including Zayn and he wasn’t naive enough to think that it was just a coincidence. There were a lot of signs pointing to the same exact thing and whether or not Louis was ready for it, it seemed like his feelings were going to make themselves heard. 

It was really high time that Louis addressed the multitude of things that happened to his body when Harry was close. It was time that he admit that there had been about a million perfect moments between him that probably should have ended in different places than they typically did. Perfect moments weren’t supposed to end in panic attacks or tears or longing looks while Harry climbed out of Marsha and headed upstairs despite the fact that they both knew it wasn’t what he wanted. 

Louis was royally fucked in terms of his personal life, because things were just getting to be _more_. They were just growing and multiplying and there was no way that he was going to be able to ignore them for the rest of his life. There was no way that ignoring them was the right thing to do. Harry wanted more and the happier and more attuned Louis became to himself, the more he realized that _maybe_ he wanted that, too. 

 _‘Not never’_ he’d said to Harry, ‘ _I can’t really tell you when.”_

When. _When._

Looking back on it, he could see it now. He’d tried so hard _not_ to make Harry a promise, but he had, hadn’t he? He had definitely confirmed to Harry that there would be a ‘when’. He’d confirmed it to Harry before he’d even bothered to confirm it to himself. 

Why was Louis always the last to realize everything?

 

…

 

It was 11:50 and Louis was sitting on the arm of the couch where Harry was sitting and telling Zayn and Liam about Gemma’s rage when Louis had beaten her at scrabble. Louis hadn’t had anything to drink yet, too busy caught up in socializing with his friends. Niall was giving his undivided attention to some girl that Louis thought he might have seen at a previous party. Zayn was sitting on the furthest cushion and Liam was in the middle. They weren’t speaking. Zayn was doing his best to look around the room like he cared about everything but Liam. Louis saw through it and he thought Liam probably did, too. Zayn liked his denial, though and Louis could agree with that. 

Harry had an arm draped around Louis and was holding his hip tightly and leaning his face against Louis' side every time he laughed. This, of course, was only adding to the fact that Louis was so full of tension that he was going to explode. It was probably going to happen tonight and maybe he’d be relieved once it did. People couldn’t continue to live under this much stress. It just wasn’t natural. Louis was going to explode and finally be relieved of the stresses of being a living and functioning human being. Maybe that wasn’t the end of the world. Anything would be better than the heat that was building in his stomach as Harry looked up at him, laughter spilling from his lips. His curls were falling in his eyes and his lips were pulled back to completely show his row of perfectly white teeth. Two giant dents were carved into each of his cheeks and Louis briefly contemplated suicide again because Harry was too much. It was too much to have him staring up at him with his jade eyes creasing up at the sides and the most beautifully awkward laughter falling from his mouth like a song. If Harry’s laughter was a song, it would certainly be Louis’ favourite song. Maybe it already was. 

Fuck, he wanted to curl up inside of Harry’s dimples and stay there for the rest of eternity and not participate in the rest of life because the rest of life was hard. Without thinking about it and without remembering that there were two other guys participating the the same conversation that he and Harry were, he reached out to Harry and brushed a curl off of his forehead. 

Louis was pretty sure that he might be lost in a land of endless cliches because the second that he pulled back he actually saw Harry’s eyes sparkle. That was actually a thing that could happen to a person. He’d just seen it with his own eyes. He was also now seeing the flush that rushed across Harry’s cheeks. Louis needed to start drinking, like _now._

He was kind of lost in the moment until he heard Nick yell from across the room. 

“One minute until midnight!” he announced. 

Liam busied himself with placing a plastic cup in Zayn’s hand and then handing one to Harry and one to Louis. Harry’s eyes finally left Louis’ and Louis learned then that it was possible to feel relief at the same time as disappointment. Liam fiddled with the plastic around the cork of the Champagne bottle in his hand and Louis heard Nick’s voice from across the room again. 

“Find who ever it is you fancy,” Nick’s voice was so loud and so obnoxious, “and get ready for your New Year’s smooch.” 

Nick was trying to meet Harry’s eyes, but Harry was looking back up at Louis again. He wasn’t saying much. He hadn’t really said much to Louis directly all night. Louis was doing a really good job of not reading too far into that (he wasn’t). 

“New Years kisses are so fucking stupid,” groaned Zayn, turning his back to Liam. 

The crowd of people started to chant then, “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.” Liam popped the cork to the champagne then and filled Zayn’s glass first. Zayn didn’t so much as look at Liam. Louis scanned the room and saw Niall snogging the girl he’d been talking to and dozens of other people were kissing. Liam reached the bottle across to fill Harry’s cup and then Louis followed by his own. He bumped his glass against Louis’ and Harry’s before he wished them a Happy New Year and turned to Zayn.

“Happy New Year,” he said softly, clinking his cup against Zayn’s. 

Zayn just rolled his eyes and said something cynical before turning away from Liam and downing his drink in one go. “This whole thing is fucking stupid,” he muttered. 

“You twat,” said Liam, putting his drink on the table and grabbing Zayn’s shoulder, forcing him to turn around, “you have to be a brat every second of the day, don’t you?” he asked. 

Before Zayn could even have a second to think of a flippant response, Liam dove in. Louis heard Zayn’s shocked gasp just as their lips met. Zayn’s body went slack against Liam and things turned dirty pretty quickly, Zayn moaning out a tortured ‘Liam’ before collapsing against Liam’s chest. 

It was at that exact moment that Harry knocked his cup against Louis’ and smiled as he got to his feet. He pulled Louis from his place on the couch and Louis’ heart was beating dangerously hard against his ribcage because he didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he knew that his whole body was covered in goosebumps and his heart wanted to beat clean out of his chest and maybe throw itself at Harry because it was sick of putting up with the constant battle between it and Louis’ mind. 

Harry shocked him, though. Louis didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but Harry pulled him in for a tight hug and whispered against him, “Happy New Year, Lou,”

It was so soft and so…normal. He’d been preparing for the fucking world to end around them, but Harry was just being normal. It was just one of the million hugs that Harry had given him in the months that they’d been friends. It was just another normal moment in a series of normal moments. 

Louis wasn’t exactly sure why it felt like there was disappointment coursing through his veins. It didn’t make sense, because he hadn’t even let himself expect something different. 

Mechanically, he wrapped his arms around Harry, “Happy New Year,” he said. 

Louis didn’t get it, though. He didn’t understand the disappointment that he was feeling as he looked around the room. People were laughing, Niall was still snogging whatever her name was and Zayn had crawled onto Liam’s lap and was panting with his eyes closed while Liam kissed along his neck and jawline. Nick was watching him. That realization settled in as he felt Harry press his face against his neck. Nick was making direct eye contact with Louis and Louis wasn’t really sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t really sure what it meant. 

Harry pulled back then, releasing Louis from his grip and Louis hadn’t been disappointed before, nope. He didn’t known what disappointment was until Harry had let him go and turned around to smile at Nick. Nick took his cue then and started making a bee-line for them. The disappointment was instantly replaced with a burning sort of rage laced with jealousy and Louis did _not_ want to deal with Nick. Not now. Not tonight when everything very suddenly felt heavy and different. It was kind of like he’d been seeing the world without glasses for his entire life and someone had only just handed him a pair. The world wasn’t _different_ , he could just see it better now.

And one thing that he was immediately certain of was that he was not going to bid for Harry’s attention against Nick. He couldn't do it. He didn’t want to waste precious energy on something that he didn’t even fully understand. 

Without thinking, Louis reached out and tugged on Harry’s hand, “let’s get some air,” he said, starting to tug Harry toward the balcony door. 

The second that the door opened Louis felt the cool January breeze rush over his skin and he felt less like a sweaty, confused, feverish mess. He looked down at Harry’s hand in his and a warm and pleasant feeling rushed through his veins. He tugged Harry further outside, toward the railing before he finally turned to look at him. 

Harry’s cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were soft and kind of confused at Louis’ behaviour and Louis couldn’t really blame him because _he_ was confused here. He was just following his instincts and that was something that he’d never even considered doing before that moment. He hadn’t even known that he did have instincts, but they were taking over. The jealously at Nick was overwhelming and he was struck with the need to get Harry far away from him. Louis had needed to get Harry somewhere where they were alone so that he could remind himself that maybe jealousy was stupid and maybe there was nothing to even be jealous of. Zayn had said so, and Zayn had an annoying tendency to be right when it came to anyone’s life but his own. 

“Are you okay?” Harry’s voice broke the still silence and the world came rushing back into Louis’ ears. 

He glanced down over the balcony where a small dusting of snow covered Marsha and all the other cars lined up next to her. He could hear the buzz of the party coming from behind the closed door and the sounds of the city below them. The world was alive and Louis was alive and Harry was stood right there in front of him giving him this look like he couldn’t decide what to think about the state that Louis was in. The thing was that Louis didn’t know either. The only thing he _did_ know was that he was most definitely not okay. He was not okay because he was going to either hurl himself off the balcony, hurl all over Harry _or_ (and this was somehow the strongest possibility) he was going to hurtle himself directly _at_ Harry. 

Louis was positively terrified. 

“I’m…” was all Louis managed to say. 

He let go of Harry’s hand then, reaching up to run his fingers through his fringe in an attempt to clear his head. It didn’t work. There didn’t seemed to be a single thing in the world that could clear his head because all he could think about was that Harry was right there in front of him and it was New Years and they were both freezing and there was a whole flat full of people that didn’t have a clue that they’d found a safe place from all the chaos. 

And it hit Louis then as he thought the words. 

Harry was a safe place from all the chaos. Louis’ whole life had been nothing but chaos for as long as he could remember but Harry had sorted him out. He had made him feel normal and it was no easy task and Louis had fought him every step of the way, but somehow they’d gotten here, to this place. 

And this was it. This was how it was supposed to be. A sort of calm that he hadn’t been expecting in the wake of such emotional turmoil washed over him. It was just him and just Harry and the rest of the world could wait because Louis had been stupid enough to delay this moment for long enough. It was inevitable and exactly what was supposed to have already happened time and time again. Louis had missed every single cue the universe had given him, but he was _not_ missing this one. 

He reached out to Harry then, his hand shaking as he gripped onto Harry’s jaw. Harry’s breath got caught in the back of his throat and Louis knew the second that Harry clicked in and joined the wavelength. 

It was inevitable and Louis was an idiot. An utter fucking moron because it was blatantly obvious that Harry wanted this just as bad as he did. He had tried for so long to convince himself that there was no way that Harry wanted this, but he’d been wrong hadn’t he? He’d been wrong about them both because whether or not he was deserving, Harry wanted him. 

And he wanted Harry. 

 _So. Fucking. Much._  

And he wasn’t sure if he was going to cry or laugh with the realization, but Harry was letting _him_ decide and that was somehow the most important part. Ever the patient, caring, delicate boy, Harry was letting Louis take the lead even though Louis didn’t have the slightest clue what that even meant. 

Harry leaned into Louis touch, closing his eyes and Louis didn’t know what the feeling was that was exploding through his chest, but it made it feel like he and Harry were the centre of the entire universe. Like they were the last two stubborn pieces to fall together in a puzzle that had gone unsolved for years. Like they were two tumblers in a lock finally clicking into place. 

So Louis bit the bullet (and bit down the urge to vomit) and leaned in very quickly and very suddenly. Louis closed his eyes just as he felt his lips brush across Harry’s. At first Harry didn’t react at all. There was a long few seconds of Louis just pouring himself into Harry. He laid dozens of tiny kisses across Harry’s lips before some kind of heartbreakingly beautiful sound broke out of Harry’s chest and he swung his arms around Louis and opened his mouth against him. 

It wasn’t like Louis had a lot of experience in this area. Not a lot of people had been lined up around the block in his life throwing him offers like this, but Harry didn’t seem to mind. At least based on the small whimpers that kept falling out as his lips moved expertly against Louis’. 

It took a moment, but Louis’ hands finally found their way into Harry’s hair and he buried them within the curls, tugging and panting against Harry’s tongue. The cool air only served to equalize the fire that seemed to build between them. This must have been a long time coming and Louis felt like an idiot for not seeing it. Harry seemed like he was throwing his entire self into it, like he’d been waiting most of his life for this moment. 

Louis just wanted to be good. He just wanted to be good for Harry, to be good to him, for this to be exactly what Harry wanted. He wanted to be exactly what Harry wanted. So much of himself was spilling out all over Harry and Harry seemed to be eating up every bit of it. Their tongues swirled together and Louis felt like he might faint or maybe even die because he couldn’t believe that he’d been deprived of this for his entire life. 

How had he wasted this many months _not_ kissing Harry? It was everything. Harry was everything and he couldn’t believe that it had taken this long for him to realize. 

He pulled back then, pressing his forehead against Harry’s and breathing the same air that Harry was breathing. He needed to always be right there with Harry breathing the same oxygen, kissing his soft pink lips and hearing his quiet moans of pleasure.

“Fuck,” said Harry, his eyes glazed over in what seemed to be pleasure. 

Louis placed one more soft kiss on Harry’s lips before leaning his forehead against him again. He was smiling. Fuck it all. He was smiling right up at Harry while wrapped up in some sort of fairytale moment that he’d tried to convince himself didn’t exist. 

“I might need a minute,” said Harry, and Louis saw Harry’s words come out in a misty exhale that mixed into the cold January air. 

Louis laughed lightly despite himself, brushing the curls away from Harry’s face. 

“Fuck,” Harry said again, biting his lip to keep his smile at bay, “do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that?”

“No,” Louis breathed softly, watching as his breath got tangled up with Harry’s own. 

“Since that day we went hiking,” started Harry, “and it started to rain and you came back to my flat and wore my jumper. Fuck, Lou, I just want you so much.”

Louis believed him. He never thought in his life that he would be able to hear those words and believe them, but this was Harry. This was Harry and Harry was everything he’d ever wanted and everything he’d ever needed. 

They fell into another long kiss just as fireworks started to go off from somewhere below them. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me on Instagram about your feelings if you feel so inclined: @feels.like.home01


	22. XXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> I'm finally back to regular updates. Round of applause for meeeee!
> 
> Also, if you're ever looking for something different to read, you should check out the new Larry fic that my BFF is writing. She's an amazing writer and you won't be disappointed! 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904543/chapters/26895000
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and I hope you like this chapter!

Fireworks sounded off from somewhere in the distance and from behind his eyelids, Louis could see the sky brighten as the sparks rained down on the city. His lips were still pressed against Harry’s. It was impossible to measure exactly how long they’d been pressed together, feeding each other air in the form of soft exhales and quiet moans. Louis was so far gone into it that the world could have been ending around him and he wouldn’t have noticed. He had nearly memorized every inch of Harry’s face and the perfect way that his lips fit against Louis' own.

How on earth had it taken him this long to know? Harry’s kisses were so soft and perfect and Louis could feel it. He had spent his entire life convinced that he’d never have a moment like this. That there would never be a person out there who wanted him like this: and then there was Harry. 

Harry. 

Harry who had woken him up from his comatose existence. Who had listened to every piece of his heart without judgement. Who had sat quietly by while Louis learned who he was. While he learned who they were. How they fit together. He’d just sat there with all the patience in the world like he knew that some day Louis would finally clue in. That some day Louis would finally believe it. 

He wanted to cry—to break in the best possible way. Louis had spent every single second of his entire existence feeling like a stain, like he was never wanted, like he couldn’t possibly belong anywhere and Harry had gone and given him an entire universe. He wasn’t just the messed up rich boy from the most prominent family in Doncaster who didn’t fit anywhere. He fit right there. Pressed against Harry and the only thing he could think to do was sob like an infant. 

Louis had spent years trying not to break and it only took him giving up on life completely to find a safe place to do it. Harry could hold him together. Harry was strong enough to give him strength he never imagined. 

For the first time he could ever remember, Louis felt okay. Tears started to pour from his eyes and a sob slipped between Harry’s lips. Gently, Harry cupped his cheeks and pulled back, softly kissing Louis’ cheek. 

“Lou,” he cooed, “shh, ‘m right here,”

Harry pulled Louis tightly against his chest, running careful fingers through his hair as he rocked them back and forth. 

“I didn’t know,” Louis voice cracked as he said the words. His hands were in fists, gripping Harry’s tshirt between them. 

He felt Harry’s lips against his hair and he was a fucking mess but for once it felt okay. For once Louis was finally where he belonged. For once he wasn’t embarrassing himself by being in the wrong place at the wrong time and the arms that were wrapped around him were the right ones.  

“Didn’t know what?” Harry’s voice was calm, grounding and it hummed through Louis’ veins, making the tears come harder. 

“I didn’t know I could want this,” he admittedly softly, “that you could ever want me,”

Harry held him tighter, “oh, Lou,” he placed a kiss on Louis’ forehead, “I’ve never wanted anything like I want you,”

Louis felt it. He believed the words even though he never thought he could. Harry wanted this. He wanted them and Louis had taken his time getting there, but Harry hadn’t wavered and there was something beautiful about that fact. For his entire life Louis was reminded that he didn’t really belong and maybe he never had, but this was different. He’d been born into a family that didn’t want him and he’d been surrounded by people who had thrived on taking advantage of his weaknesses. Harry hadn’t even wasted a second being like that. Instead of using him and destroying like Matt had from the first moment they’d met, he’d used his upper hand in life to lift Louis up. 

Louis couldn’t believe that this was happening. Couldn't believe that he was allowed to have this. Couldn’t believe that the universe had finally taken pity on him for all the shit he’d been through. After so many years of being certain he’d never get this, that there was no point in even wishing he could have it, here he was, wrapped safely in Harry’s arms and he didn’t think there could possibly be a better place in the world. 

He looked up at Harry and it was all a bit overwhelming. He hadn’t known that their night was going to end here. He had no idea he was going to go for it. That shouldn’t have been a surprise, though, because Louis was usually the last to know everything. The entire night, really, should have been a clear indication to him that he wasn’t okay with what he and Harry were. Being his best friend wasn’t enough. Maybe he should have known that all along, but in the same breath, it wasn’t surprising that it would just all come to a head. That the feelings inside of him would boil over and completely catch him off guard and have him tugging harry to a quiet corner and throwing himself at him. 

Thank God, thank Allah, thank Aphrodite and every other god that might have been responsible for Harry catching him. The world might have actually ended if he hadn’t. 

Louis could still hear the music pumping from the flat and people were still singing and talking and screaming and there was just too much going on. Louis needed silence. He needed to clear his head and figure out the right things to say to Harry. He needed to be far away from the chaotic party. 

“Can we go somewhere quiet?” He mumbled into Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry pressed his lips to Louis’ temple, “Marsha?”

Harry’s voice was quiet and raspy and it sent shocks through Louis’ body, setting a fire in his belly. Had Harry always been so positively desirable? Why did it feel like he was only just seeing everything for the first time?

“Marsha,” Louis confirmed.

Harry pulled back then and Louis really looked at him for the first time since their kiss. Harry’s eyes were foggy and his lips were a few shades pinker than they’re been before. The most surprising part of all though, was that his gorgeous green eyes were glued to Louis like there wasn’t a single thing in the world that he would rather have been looking at. Louis felt his heart lurch in his chest, trying to throw itself at Harry again. It was only a half a second of staring at each other before Harry’s face broke into a dazzling grin and he reached out and captured Louis’ hand in his. He tugged on it gently before pressing his lips to Louis’ forehead. 

Louis was about 98% certain that time had stopped. He and Harry were the only people left awake and they were roaming the earth alone and it was perfect. The world was silenced around them and the only thing that he could focus on, the only thing that mattered, was the press of Harry’s lips against his forehead. The only thing that mattered was them because Louis finally _got_ it. He was the last person on earth to clue in, but he had and now everything felt like he was looking through a haze. A haze that was brought on by the heat and intensity of Harry and his body’s reaction to their closeness. Louis couldn’t possibly think about anything else other than the feel of Harry’s palm against his and their palms had been pressed together a million times before that, but this was different. This was him finally giving into the fire between them. This was him finally understanding _why_ Harry meant so much to him. 

The world continued to blur around him as Harry slowly lead them through the crowded flat. Vaguely he was aware that Niall had called after them. He heard Harry say something back, but he was too focused on the way that Harry had tucked him into his side, protecting him from the demands of everyone around them. As they passed the couch, Louis was somewhat aware that Zayn and Liam were no longer there, but he was so distracted by the feeling of Harry’s heartbeat being pressed against his ribcage to bother searching the room for them. Harry’s hand found the doorknob to exit the flat and this was really happening. They were really doing this. Instead of simply locking themselves in Harry’s bedroom and reading each other poetry as they had time and time again when the party scene had gotten to be too much for them, they were actually leaving—together. Louis was tucked into Harry’s side and it was intimate in a way that it had never been before. Surely everyone could see that things had changed—that they had changed—but Harry didn’t care. He didn’t try to hide. He wasn’t ashamed of Louis and Louis might cry again. He might spend the next portion of his life crying about the first person to ever make him feel worthy. 

When they found the elevator Louis hadn’t even bothered to wait for the door to close before he searched out Harry’s lips again. There was just so much that he hadn’t known. There were so many little things about Harry that he’d somehow ignored and failed to appreciate. Like the way his curls felt when Louis wound his fingers through them. Like the way his skin always seemed to carry a warmth to it, a warmth that only served to light fires within Louis. Like the way he muttered soft words into Louis’ mouth as his kissed him. The way he laid promises against Louis’ neck between the kisses he placed there. Louis was overwhelmed in the best possible way. 

The world stilled and blurred around them. At some point they must have reached the bottom floor of Harry’s building and Harry must have lead him to Marsha because when Louis finally came-to and realized where he was, he was in the passenger’s seat, leaning across the gear-shift to kiss Harry. Harry’s hands were soft as he held Louis’ face, just inches away from his own. He was smiling softly and the car was probably about forty degrees inside and Louis was so lost in Harry’s eyes. 

Harry gently kissed the tip of his nose and leaned his forehead against Louis’—a practice that was starting to feel like some kind of routine that had been a part of their lives forever.

“I’m sorry,” Louis didn’t even know he was going to speak, didn’t know he had any notion of what to say. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Harry’s voice was still ragged and Louis felt all sorts of chills run down his spine. 

“Because I didn’t know. I didn’t know for so long and you knew and—”

“I waited,” confirmed Harry, “I waited because I knew you’d see it.”

Louis felt his lip tremble as he said the words, “thank you,”

Harry ran the pad of his thumb over Louis’ lip and Louis closed his eyes, trying to figure out how he got here. How he somehow stopped being afraid of his own shadow and opened his eyes to the beauty of the world around him. He could see it all now. He could see Harry for everything he was and everything he’d given Louis and it was just a lot. It felt him breathless and wordless and lost in a place that he didn’t quite know how to navigate but dammit if he wasn’t willing to figure it out. He’d make this work because if there was one thing in his life that he was not willing to fuck up, it was Harry. 

“Can we…”

“Yeah,” said Harry, answering the question before Louis could even figure out how to phrase what he wanted, “yeah, your place,” Harry gave Louis another deep kiss, pulling back and breathing the rest of his words into Louis’ mouth, “want to hold you in your bed,”

 

…

 

Again, Louis gapped out. He wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten to his house. They were parked outside, Harry having killed the engine to Marsha. He didn’t remember a thing about the drive aside from the quiet way that Harry had hummed along with the radio and the fact that his hands somehow seemed to be all over Louis instead of the steering wheel. Louis was literally on the verge of bursting into flames because he wanted so many things physically that conflicted with his stunted emotional growth. Harry wasn’t Matt and he wasn’t sure if there was anything comforting in that fact, because with Matt it had never been a question about how he felt. He’d never had anything to lose, but with Harry he wanted things to be right. He wanted to be good and he didn’t want to think about where they would be if he was anything less than perfect. 

Which he was.

It was horrifying trying to keep his cool as Harry’s hand sat heavy on his thigh and his breath filled the tiny car with the smell of champagne and minty toothpaste. Louis hadn’t even _sipped_ the champagne that Liam had placed in his hand but he somehow felt more inebriated than he ever had just because of Harry’s presence. Everything inside of him felt like it weighed a million kilograms and every move Harry made sent his heart tripping. His veins were electrical wires which pumped the feeling through every centimetre of his body. 

“Hey, Lou?” Harry’s voice sounded like he knew that Louis was getting lost in the hell-hole of his insecurities. How did he know everything? How did he fix _everything_ inside of Louis without even a moment’s hesitation? How was Harry so fucking perfect for him in every single way? It didn’t seem possible that there could be someone out there who understood every single part of Louis, but here Harry was. Here he was, once again, pulling Louis out from the darkness of his mind. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. 

Louis couldn’t speak, couldn’t ever think of the right thing to say, so he just nodded. 

“Can we go inside?” Harry carded his hand through Louis’ hair, gently. 

Louis might have been terrified, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew that there was rationally only one real answer to the question. He nodded again, his breath not quite reaching his lungs in the way he wanted it to. 

“We should be quiet,” he said softly, “my mum came home early.”

Louis had been successful in the past couple of days at mostly avoiding her (he suspected a lot had to do with the amount of time he’d spent locked in his bedroom and Zayn’s flat) but he wasn’t about to ruin this thing with Harry by getting her involved. 

 _‘What is Harry to you?’_ she’d asked. 

Everything. 

Harry was everything and Louis didn’t know how he would ever be able to explain that to another person, let alone to Harry himself. 

 

Somehow, they’d managed to sneak in without making a sound and locked Louis’ door behind them. Louis didn’t know what was supposed to happen next—or, maybe he did…and that was the part that terrified him the most. He’d been through a lot in his life, a lot of it left him with a pretty sour taste for the exact thing that he and Harry seemed to be dancing around. He’d come leaps and bounds—but _this?_ Being with Harry in the way that he could clearly tell Harry wanted by the hooded look in his eyes and the groans he’d made into Louis’ mouth? Well…maybe that was still too much. Maybe it wasn’t okay that it was still too much. 

Harry, though, Harry was a saint. Louis couldn’t even count how many times he’d thought that about his best friend, but this moment was being added to that list. 

Harry walked gracefully toward the bed, Louis’ hand still wrapped up within his larger one and pulled back the blankets. Slowly, he lowered himself on the mattress, tugging Louis after him. 

“Snuggle me,” he purred softly and fucking bless the fuck out of this boy because he _knew_. He fucking knew that Louis wasn’t ready and he wasn’t even mad. He didn’t even look disappointed. He just wanted to hold Louis and Louis thought that maybe he might fall apart in Harry’s arms. Harry would be okay with it, though. 

Louis climbed into his bed next to Harry, like he’d done dozens of times before, but suddenly he was aware of how small the distance was between them. Harry was laying on his side, staring back at Louis and Louis felt his cheeks heating with a blush that originated in his tummy. Before he took his place next to Harry, he reached out and shut off the light. He felt Harry reach out for him then, tugging him down so their bodies were perfectly aligned. Their chests were flush against each other as Harry’s lips found his again. This time, the kiss was warm and chaste and Harry pulled back quickly. He rolled onto his back then, pulling Louis against his chest and kissing the top of Louis’ head.

“I mean,” Harry let a soft chuckle fall from his lips along with the hushed words, “I knew…I fucking knew you’d be incredible, but _Louis_ ,”

Experimentally, Louis ran his hands over the firm muscles of Harry’s chest. He didn’t think he was imagining the way that Harry's heartbeat quickened at the gesture. Louis tucked away that knowledge, vowing to experiment with it further when there were less questions on the tip of his tongue. Or when there were less answers to those questions falling from Harry’s lips before he even had a chance to ask them. 

“Lou, I—I don’t even know what to say. I wasn’t…I didn’t know when you’d see it. I started to wonder if maybe I was just making the whole thing up in my head. It was making me crazy thinking maybe I was the only one who felt it.”

Louis pressed himself harder against Harry, kissing the parts of his collarbones that weren’t covered by fabric, “I feel it,” he confirmed softly. 

Harry made a small whimpering sound, “you feel it,” he said the words aloud like he was testing them. Testing how they felt now that they were out in the open and Louis had finally admitted it. 

“I wasn’t holding back,” Louis whispered into the room, the silence somehow made his confessions feel less like confessions. He felt safe and cared for and warm wrapped in Harry’s arms, “I didn’t understand. I didn’t let myself believe someone would want me,”

“I want you,” Harry’s voice sounded like he was on the brink—on the brink of about a million things. Louis didn’t know if maybe he was going to cry or laugh or if he was going to force his incredible tongue back down Louis’ throat, but for once all of those options were okay. The rest of the world didn’t exist and Louis had done his best to check all of his insecurities at the door. It was just them and Harry was just as safe with Louis as Louis felt with him. He needed to be sure that Harry knew that. 

“I care about you so much, Harry. You’re everything to me. I’m sorry for making you question it. You were right. You were always right, Curly.”

Harry laughed into Louis’ hair and Louis felt pretty certain that Harry was crying. He placed a few kisses along Harry’s neck before he heard Harry’s voice again. 

“Fuck, Louis. It’s like…surreal. You’re here and I can hold you like this. I can kiss you.” his voice definitely cracked on the words and Louis felt a little overwhelmed with the fondness in his chest, “Gemma practically threw a fit before we left. She just kept yelling at me and telling me to ‘just fucking kiss you’ but I knew it had to be you. I already came so close to ruining the whole thing and, fuck Louis, I took so much shit from my family,” this time he laughed, “my mum threatened my health and safety if I didn’t seal the deal. I told her I didn’t think you wanted that, and she told me that she could see it. Even my mum could see it and I’ve just felt like I’d never get something like this. Like I would never get someone like you, because you’re fucking brilliant, Lou. You’re…you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen and that’s all fine and good, but like that wasn’t enough--like you weren't already enough…you’re kind and funny and smart and you, _you_ , Louis Tomlinson, you want me? I’m just so fucking lucky,” he kissed the top of Louis’ head again, “this is going to be the best year ever. I can’t believe we started it together.”

 

…

 

January first started in a bit of a confusing manner for Louis. When he first shifted in his bed, he felt arms wrapped around him. This wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary as he opened his eyes to yet another overcast day he felt several soft kisses on the back of his neck. A cool and complete calm washed over him as he remembered. He remembered the kisses, his lips raw as he dove deeper and deeper in Harry’s mouth before they’d fallen asleep the previous night. If it weren't for how raw each of their mouths were, he didn’t think they would have ever decided to go to sleep. They would have gladly spent the entire night kissing if it weren’t for the sort of fevered exhaustion they fell into after pouring confessions into the dark of New Year’s night.

Now, though, it was a new morning—a new _year_ and Harry was reminding him of just how good that could feel. His soft kisses migrated from the back of Louis’ neck to his jaw line and, well, Louis was a person. He was a person in possession of a body that was pretty fucking fond of the boy behind him. He rolled over, then, nuzzling his nose against Harry’s. Harry grinned a tired and lazy smile at him and it wasn’t just a dream. Louis hadn’t just made the whole thing up in his sleep. Harry was real, Harry’s feelings were real and most importantly of all, _Louis’_ feelings were real. He’d finally seen it and now that his eyes were opened to _this,_ to him and Harry, there was no way he could un-see it. There was no way that he’d ever be able to deny the chemistry that had taken him months to process. He got it and things were different, which at one point had been his worst fear, but he knew now that different didn’t have to be a bad thing.

Louis leaned in then and didn’t give a second thought to his or Harry’s morning breath and gave him a long, open-mouthed kiss. There was a million things happening inside of his stomach as he felt Harry’s tongue gliding against his and not one of them were dread or fear. He felt like a different person. 

Harry held Louis close to him, their chests flush against each other. He kissed Louis softly, like he was trying to remind himself of exactly every millimetre of Louis’ mouth—like he still couldn’t believe it was real either. The magic from the previous night hadn’t left the atmosphere, and things didn’t look any different in the light of day than they had the night before when Louis had made a snap decision that Harry _had_ to mean more. 

Harry’s hand slid under Louis’ shirt and came to rest on the small of his back, heat radiating directly from where Harry’s skin made contact against his. Louis made some kind of guttural sound in the back of his throat and didn’t have a second to be embarrassed about it before Harry’s nails dug into his skin and sent shocks of pleasure across Louis’ body. 

Wow. 

Wow. Wow. _Wow._

What a way to wake up. He was actually living in the definition of ‘good morning’. There was such a thing and he’d thought he’d understood that every other time he had woken up with Harry, but he hadn’t known a thing. Somehow, even though every second of his life had been better since Harry waltzed in and turned off airplane mode and cut through the radio silence that was his social life, it got better. It got even better and better and he thought back to the poster’s he’d seen outside of Terri’s office since that first day he’d shown up there. He’d scoffed at them, denied up and down to Terri for _weeks_ that things had gotten better. ‘It gets better’ they all read and Louis hadn’t noticed it until he saw things at the very best he imagined they could ever be. 

Yeah, he’d fucked up. He’d taken the hurt and pain that his family had caused him his entire life and turned it into an excuse for bad decisions. He’d done too many drugs and made too many reckless decisions because he didn’t value himself. He didn’t value his life because he really and truly believed that things would not be better. He believed that his past would continue to dictate his future and that some day he’d do a better job at swallowing more pills and he wouldn’t have to sit through therapy and pretend he believed a word out of her mouth. 

But he’d been wrong. He’d been so fucking wrong and fuck was he glad for that. If he had been right at any point he might not have made it here. He might have never met Harry and he might never have known that it was possible to find a place that was more than just a shelter from a storm. Harry was the antidote because there was no storm anymore. There was nothing to hide from because his life really and truly was better because Harry had given him the time of day. He’d seen Louis as a person and not as a collection of horrible mistakes. 

Harry pulled back, then, his eyes heavy and yawned. 

“Good morning,” said Louis, snuggling into his chest and listening intently to the steady rhythm of Harry’s heart. 

Harry’s arms settled around him, squeezing him tightly against him, “best morning,” said Harry, his breath blowing through Louis’ messy hair. Harry’s hand migrated back up under Louis’ shirt and pressed against his skin, “Happy New Year,” Harry said through another yawn, “think I forgot to say it last night.”

“Happy New Year,” Louis mumbled, feeling sleep pulling at him again. 

 

…

 

Louis woke up for the second time that morning feeling decidedly more rested, his head still on Harry’s chest. This time he didn’t forget anything and he breathed deep the heady scent of Harry, braving a glance up through his lashes. Harry was still fast sleep. He smiled despite himself at the warmth of the whole thing. Harry’s arms were still wrapped around him, despite having gone a bit slack in his unconscious. Louis didn’t think he could sleep anymore. There was just too much happening inside of him to be able to close his eyes again. 

This was it, this was real and he and Harry had crossed the threshold they’d been hovering in from maybe the day they’d met. There was a very large (very, very large) part of Louis that still felt like he was going to fuck it up. He had never imagined he’d get the chance to _try_ to be good to someone in this way. He’d watched the world around him and all of his peers date and felt nothing towards it. He’d never in his life allowed himself to hope for this feeling, never knew that this feeling could exist. He’d made himself believe that there was no point in trying because he was a disposable person. He was the kind of person that people used until he had nothing left to give and then moved on. There was no point in harbouring hope for more. There was no point in entertaining feelings like this because it would only end in disappointment because surely there was no one out there who wanted to take on a mess like himself. 

He was wrong though because Harry did. Harry had for a long time and a large part of Louis wanted to believe that it was all his imagination and that someone as perfect as Harry was bound to eventually see that he was disposable. That he would eventually leave—but he also recognized that maybe the was wrong. Harry had done nothing but give and give and give to Louis and there was no way that there could be a selfish motive behind that. There was no way that Harry would have given so much without some sort of genuine feeling behind it. And Louis felt that. 

Louis didn’t know what was next—where they were supposed to go from here. He’d never been here before, and maybe Harry hadn’t, either. Maybe they would fumble along figuring out their next steps together and Louis didn’t mind that thought. Didn’t mind the idea of more nights like this. More nights with whispered promises and affirmations and kissing into the wee hours of the morning. He could get used to it, was the thing. It would be easy, just like everything with Harry had been. Their progression had been so natural that Louis hadn’t even noticed most of it until he was gripping Harry’s face and finally, finally leaning in to close the distance. 

It would be like breathing, navigating their new dynamic. Harry would probably lead the way and Louis would happily trip along behind him, no longer shy about his desires. 

Slowly, as the sound of Harry’s breathing deepened, Louis rose from his place next to him. Instantly he was colder. Instantly he missed the press of Harry against him, but he also couldn’t waste another second. He had to somehow figure this thing out and if he had learned anything from the (probably hundreds of) books he’d read, he needed to show Harry in every possible way just how in this he was. He’d start by making him breakfast. He’d sneak downstairs and scrounge something up (even though he was fucking hopeless at cooking) and bring it back for Harry. That was romantic, wasn’t it? Plus, if his mother was home it was probably because of work, so she’d be in a different wing of the house than the kitchen. The odds of them crossing paths were stacked completely against him and Louis liked that. 

 

Louis had only just opened the fridge to stare at it’s contents when he heard the front door open. He tried to ignore whomever it was. He had a mission to complete and a beautiful boy in his bed to impress and everything else in his chaotic life could fucking _wait._

“Jay,” 

It was Dan’s voice. It sounded like he was alone. Maybe he’d come home before Lottie and the rest of Louis’ siblings. He called out to Louis’ mother again and Louis reached out to grab a bowl of strawberries from the fridge, loading it onto the platter he was filling. 

Louis heard his mother’s voice then, greeting Dan softly as Louis peered back into the fridge. He really was trying to ignore it, though, because he had his own life to worry about. But there was just something about his mum and Dan that fascinated him in the strangest way, especially in light of recent events with Harry. Louis hadn’t honestly given the origin of his stepfather much thought, but if he thought back to what he could remember from the time Dan came around, things were a bit fishy. From the point of view of himself and his siblings, the divorce had happened before Dan moved in, but now that he thought about it, the closer things started to blur. 

Louis’ dad had moved out, or rather been forced out by his mother, only a couple of months before Dan had moved in. Up until Dan had shown up, Louis probably would have described his mum and dad’s divorce as inevitable, but then he’d met Dan in all of his 27 year old glory. Things made more and more sense to Louis when dan had shown up, ten years his mother’s junior. Dan had to have been the reason she’d forced his dad out. 

Before his mother had given birth to Ernest and Doris, things between her and Dan had seemed good. When Louis wasn’t busy spiralling (which he often was during that time period), he saw the way they could hardly keep their hands off each other. There was a kind of heat or infatuation that lived between them that Louis hadn’t understood at the time. Now, though, thinking back to it, it didn’t seem that different from his own infatuation with Harry and the way that Harry monopolized his wandering mind. 

Then, once the twins were born, he’d noticed that their dynamic had shifted. His mother seemed cold and resentful of Dan's presence. It was as if he was doing something wrong simply by being there. Every thing he did seemed to be wrong to her and Louis didn’t really understand it all. He never had, yet somehow his mother was the only example of an adult relationship he had to base anything on. It was complex and exhausting and the fact that he wasn’t able to ask for an explanation, that he had to watch it all from his exile, only added to his confusion over the whole thing. 

Now it wasn’t any different. He still didn’t understand any of it. He closed the refrigerator just as he heard his mother join Dan in the entryway. 

“Why are you back?” She didn’t bother with a greeting, just just dove right in. Her voice was cold and emotionless like he was one of her children and therefore unworthy of her complete respect. 

“I missed you, babe,” his explanation was simple enough that it made sense to Louis, but his mother seemed confused. 

“Where are the kids?” Was that a slight hint of panic that Louis heard in her voice?

“Spain, with your dad,” now that Dan hadn’t received the greeting he’d been expecting, Louis heard the anger rising in his response. 

“You left my children in _Spain?”_  

“No,” corrected Dan, “ _you_ left your children in Spain so you could come home and be alone. I just followed you.”

“You fucking idiot,” she chastised, and Louis recognized the disdain in her voice because he was almost always on the receiving end of her annoyance and disgust, “you left my kids in another country because you wanted to get laid? Is that what this is? How could you been so fucking careless?”

“No, I left them behind with your father and three fucking Nannies when they’re getting picked up by a chartered plane tomorrow anyway because _I missed you_. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You’re a child,” she snapped, “and I should have known better than to trust you to take care of my family,”

“You’re a grown up spoiled brat who expects the entire world to kiss your ass when you barely even have time for anyone. Fucking sue me for missing you. I forgot you needed to be alone with your precious work.” 

Louis’ hands were shaking as he mechanically started to collect things that sort of resembled breakfast items from the cupboards. Had Dan done something wrong? Maybe it was careless to have left his siblings behind, but they weren’t ever truly alone. There were nannies and they did most of the work raising her kids anyway, from what Louis could tell. Sure, maybe Dan should have waited the extra day, but shouldn’t his mum give the guy a free pass since his reasoning seemed genuine? He missed her. They were supposed to be in love or whatever and wasn’t that how things were supposed to go? Wasn’t there supposed to be give and take?

“And you’re a child who can’t handle responsibility,” his mother fired back. 

“I certainly hope you didn’t marry me so I could be your live-in babysitter. You already have three of those.”

“You can’t babysit your own family. It’s called _parenting,”_ she fired back.

“Oh, like you would know anything about parenting, raising the most fucked up kid in town.”

Louis froze. He knew that Dan couldn’t have meant any of his sisters. He knew what Dan was getting at and he felt a bit nauseous thinking about it. They were talking about Louis and he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to be a part of this fight. He’d woken up in what felt like an impossible fantasy and now he was faced with this? It wasn’t fair. Nothing in his family was ever fair. 

“Louis is _not_ your responsibility. How dare you throw that at me?” his mother sounded partly like she’d been caught off guard and partly like she was standing up for him. It didn’t make any sense. 

“Well if we’re going to criticize parenting, I think it should be mentioned that maybe the rest of your kids are going to end up exactly the same. Maybe they’re all going to try to kill themselves to get away from you.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

That wasn’t fair. A large part of Louis wanted to walk out of the kitchen, to show them both that he was _right fucking there_. But a smarter part of himself knew not to get involved in their heated arguments. He’d heard them yelling at each other time and time again, and now was not the time to get involved—just...did it have to be about him? Sure, he wasn’t a shining example of what people wanted for a child, but did he need to be a weapon that Dan used against his mother? 

“Don’t you dare _ever_ talk to me about Louis. That is _my_ son. He's none of your concern.”

“Except he is because you expect me to make exceptions for him so you can pretend he’s fucking normal. Do you know how many strings I’ve had to pull to keep him enrolled in university? Don’t fucking try me, Jay.”

Louis took a deep breath as he prepared for his mother’s response. Of course he knew Dan’s words were the truth. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that the only reason he’d gotten his second, third, fourth and fifth chances with school was because Dan was on the board of directors. He knew that most people didn’t get the amount of chances he had, but dammit. This wasn’t what he needed to hear.

“Tell me more, Dan. Tell me about who’s name is on the Dean’s list this semester. Tell me about who has an average in the nineties. Fuck you for thinking you could throw that in my face. This isn’t even about him, this is about _you_ being a fucking child. I need someone who can handle this family, who can be a partner to me. You do none of those things. I’m over you being here. I’m over the whole thing. You’re supposed to be a grown man, Daniel, start acting like one.”  

 

…

 

Louis snuck up the back staircase to his room, still holding a tray of random food items that he hadn’t given much thought to. He felt kind of like he was in a weird sort of daze because the more and more he became aware of the world around him, the more he started to see how different things were than they had been before. He wasn’t sure what he’d just heard, but his mother had stood up for him, against the person she’d chosen over everyone time and time again. Dan had tried to rake Louis over the coals, tried to make the fight about something other than him and his mother had wanted no part in any of it. 

He didn’t understand what that meant. 

He didn’t understand what his mother’s angle had been. What had been trying to gain by telling Dan he couldn’t talk about Louis? Why was she keeping him separate from all of his other siblings and telling Dan he was responsible for the rest of them, but not Louis? What made Louis different? What made Louis _her son_ and not a part of the rest of them? It just didn’t make any sense. Louis didn’t get any of it and he was getting pretty sick of not understanding social cues, but he thought that maybe he got a free pass with this one. Maybe no one really understood his mum. Nothing she did seemed to have a rhyme or reason and Louis felt exhausted trying to keep up. 

He opened the door to his room and found Harry sitting up in the bed, scrolling through his phone. Louis put down the tray and kind of hovered in the doorway. The magic seemed to have died inside of him. There was no happy sort of haze left in the room and he could feel the slump to his shoulders. He wanted to be alone and now he’d have to somehow explain to Harry what had happened. He knew Harry would sense it and as much as he’d appreciated that about Harry 10 minutes ago, it was now a huge source of frustration for him. 

It didn’t take long for Harry to feel that something was off and ordinarily, Louis would have been grateful. He would have been glad that Harry knew without him having to explain much. But this was different. This was something he needed time to process his feelings about. He needed to be alone to try and figure out how he felt about it all. 

Which wasn’t fair and he knew it and it probably made him the worst...whatever he was to harry. 

“Lou, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Harry was climbing out of the bed and Louis didn’t want that. 

“I’m fine,” he lied. 

“You’re lying,” Harry said, his face falling into a frown, “you’re not fine.”

Louis opened his mouth and hesitated for a moment, “it’s...nothing really. Just overheard my mum and Dan fighting. It’s fine.”

Harry didn’t want to accept the words, Louis could see it in his eyes, but he also recognized that Louis didn’t want to talk. After just a moment of hesitation, Harry nodded once, taking Louis hand and leading him back to his bed. 

 

They ate breakfast mostly in silence. Louis was still hung up on his mother’s words and Harry was busy trying not to detonate any of the landmines surrounding Louis. Louis might have known that it would go like this. That the very first day he and Harry woke up together he would fuck it up. Harry was walking on eggshells because of him and the worst part was that he couldn’t fix it. He was too busy trying to avoid the landmines himself. He didn’t know how to find that sort of place they’d been the previous night, or even earlier that morning. 

Louis was shit at this whole thing. 

The worst part of all was the guilt that was building in his stomach as he watched the time pass. Harry had to work in two hours and Louis was counting down the minutes until he had to drop him off. Until he could finally be alone in his spiral. He was the worst at absolutely everything.

 

...

 

Of course, once Louis had dropped Harry off at Starbucks, he’d realized just how much he didn’t want to be alone. Thankfully, Zayn had responded to his distressed text pretty quickly telling him to come over. And that was how Louis ended up sitting on the couch next to Zayn who was somehow smoking heavier than usual next to him. Zayn’s eyes were focused on Liam, who was drying the last couple of dishes next to Zayn’s sink and tucking them away in the cupboards. Zayn hadn’t really said much since Louis had shown up and Louis kind of felt awkward sitting next to him and staring at Liam. 

Liam turned to them, then, once he’d safely placed the last mug into the cupboard and he looked about as uncomfortable as Louis felt. 

“Do you want me to make tea?” Liam’s voice was definitely directed at Zayn and not Louis, but Zayn paid no attention. He just continued to stare into the kitchen like Liam wasn’t even there. 

Louis kind of regretted his decision to hang out at Zayn’s since it really didn’t feel like he was in the mood for company. Zayn was putting out his cigarette in the ashtray and filling a glass with brandy when Liam spoke again. 

“Zayn, love, do you want me to go?” Liam’s voice sounded kind of wounded and Louis wanted to chastise Zayn for probably being at fault, but Zayn and Liam's whole dynamic was also stressful and impossible to understand and Louis didn’t really want to get involved in something he couldn’t grasp. 

“Yeah.”

Zayn’s voice was flat and he didn’t even bother to glance at Liam as he said the words. Louis watched as Liam’s face fell and he nodded slowly and muttered a ‘text me’ that probably fell on deaf ears. The second the front door closed, Zayn let out a sigh of relief and settled back into the couch, taking a long pull from his glass and following it with an even longer suck on his cigarette. 

“I thought he’d never leave,” he said as he exhaled smoke in the opposite direction of Louis. 

“You wanted him to leave?” Louis could tell that it was the case, but he also didn’t understand why. 

“Fuck yeah, I did. He’s been coddling me all morning. Cooked me breakfast and tried to snuggle for _hours,_ Louis, _hours.”_  

Louis let out a small laugh despite the fact that he knew Zayn wasn’t joking, “sounds awful,” he teased. 

“It was,” confirmed Zayn, “he’s been like that since last night and I don’t get who he thinks he’s fooling. He should know I’m not like that. Do you know how much painting I could’ve gotten done while he was trying to hold me tenderly and talk about his feelings? I wasted the whole bloody morning in bed with that moron.”

Louis was quiet then, trying to sort through Zayn’s complaints and find the parts of them that were bad. That morning, he’d woken up next to Harry and it had been much the same, but it hadn’t felt like a waste. He didn’t feel concerned about the things he could have done _instead_ of cuddling with Harry. It didn’t feel like there was anything more important. Zayn’s perspective on everything was so vastly different. 

Zayn put down his glass and rested his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. He gave one dramatic exhale before he spoke. 

“Last night Liam said he loved me,” he admitted softly. 

Now they were officially in territory that Louis didn’t know how to navigate. Zayn should have known, though, shouldn’t he? Wasn’t that exactly what Zayn wanted? Why was he reacting like this? All he’d talked about since the first conversation he and Louis had had months ago was Liam. Liam monopolized all of Zayn’s thoughts and it was pretty obvious from an outsider’s perspective that they worked. Liam knew how to handle Zayn’s outbursts and his ill-timed temper. It didn’t make sense to see him react this way. 

“Isn’t that what you want?” Louis asked softly, “what did you say to him?”

“I told him to bugger off,” Zayn said, lifting his head up to meet Louis’ eyes. “and, no, I don’t think that’s what I want.”

“No?”

“Nah,” confirmed Zayn, “it’s like…a bit too much, don’t you think? Liam is my best mate, he understands me but like, I want that to last. Maybe we shouldn’t have started having sex. It was really only a matter of time before things went to shit.”

Louis was absolutely lost. He didn’t have a clue what Zayn was talking about. It didn’t make a bit of sense to him. Liam wanted Zayn and up until this conversation had started, Louis felt pretty confident that he knew how Zayn felt about Liam. 

“I thought you cared about him,”

“I do,” Zayn sighed, “I do, so much. More than I’ve ever cared about someone else and he’s always there for me and he lets me be me and I can’t risk that changing. I don’t want to be in love with Liam because I don’t want to lose him. I’m not even twenty yet, Louis, do you honestly think it’s going to last? If I started a real relationship with Liam it’s just going to get messy and fucked up and I’d rather him be my friend than lose him completely. Relationships rarely last and I just don’t want to be a part of that statistic. I’m not putting myself out there because it’s not worth it. I’ve got everything I want with Liam already, why put a label on it? Why put pressure on it?”

Right. Zayn was probably right and holy fuck, how had Louis not seen that? 

Every single relationship he could name had fallen apart. His mum and his father, they hadn’t even lasted long enough for him to see. His mum and dad had been rocky at their best points and volatile at their worst. Then, just that morning, he’d been reminded yet again that even in adulthood relationships were a mess. His mum and Dan weren’t going to last. People broke up. People moved on and changed and it was naive to think that someone could grow _with_ you. People only grew in their own directions. 

Zayn was right. He was right and Louis was stupid and hopeless and he hated that he’d already mostly fallen into the trap of believing differntly. He and Harry were doomed if things continued on the path he’d set them on. Friends could be forever, but relationships ended with scars and blood and Louis didn’t want to sign up for any of that. He should have at least had the good sense to protect himself. To protect Harry. 

The only chance he and Harry had at a future was their friendship. 

How dare he have waltzed in and ruined that? He was going to break Harry and Harry was going to break him and they were going to fall apart in a hail of sparks and Louis wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t going to accept that. He couldn’t lose Harry because he couldn’t wait another twenty years to meet him again. Harry was everything to him and the thought of losing that for something as ludicrous as a relationship was beyond him. 

Just when he'd been so sure he was finally on the right track he was reminded how bad his instincts were. Now he'd made an even bigger mess of the whole thing. Any way he looked at it, he was probably going to lose Harry. He was fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me. 
> 
> Instagram: feels.like.home01
> 
> <3
> 
> Also let's talk about Just Like You <3 Louis is just the best ever. 
> 
> And I'm so excited to hear Flicker :D


	23. XXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Here's a chapter that is wildly outside of the norm, I think you'll all be surprised at the direction it takes. 
> 
> Mild trigger warning here for the fact that Louis faces a lot of his past sexual demons in this chapter. There’s not much mention of it, but someone still might find it triggering, so I didn’t want to not put a warning!
> 
> I listened to Niall while writing this. Nothing else. 
> 
> If there is another album that exists on this earth, I wouldn't know because, FLICKER.
> 
> Niall is my reason for living right now. 
> 
> Anyway, comments are welcomed and I love you all <3

“Shit.”

Louis looked up at Zayn, still mostly lost in his spiralling thoughts. Zayn’s voice had just barely broken through to Louis. He was lost. And it was alarming because just that morning, before everything had gone to such utter shit, he’d been so certain that he had finally _not_ been lost. His life seemed to explode all around him on the daily without any sort of rhyme or reason to it. He wasn’t quite certain what his next step was supposed to be, he’d already messed up so badly. He’d already kissed Harry and changed everything. The last thing on earth he wanted was for he and Harry to become whatever it was that Zayn and Liam were. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” chanted Zayn, reaching out to detach Louis’ hand from his fringe. He hadn’t even realized he’d been tugging on his own hair in some sort of hopeless effort to ground himself, “don’t listen to me. I’m a fucking idiot.”

Zayn's request came a few minutes too late. Louis had already heard his words loud and clear. 

Friendship lasted. Relationships exploded. 

It was so fucking obvious and it was stupid that Louis had to hear it from Zayn’s lips for it to sink in. He and Harry already had such a good thing going. They didn’t need to change that, but Louis had been an idiot. 

He was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. His head was always in a different realm than reality. 

How long until Harry realized they’d fucked up? Would Harry even realize? Or would it just be a gradual and slow demise that he didn’t notice until Louis finally broke? 

Fuck. 

“Listen, Louis,” Zayn’s voice made his head shoot up. Louis met Zayn’s brown eyes then and he wanted to melt into the floor. There was pity and regret in Zayn’s expression, “I don’t know what I’m talking about, okay? It’s not the same.”

Louis shook his head, wanting to look in any other direction because staring into the void of pity and regret was too much. Zayn wasn’t wrong. Pressure broke people and there was nothing that put more pressure on things than a relationship. His mum and Dan had been happy once. He remembered it, but the pressures of life had broken them. He couldn’t risk that with Harry. 

“Listen, you and Harry _aren’t_ me and Liam. It’s not the same thing. You’re braver than I am,”

Louis made some kind of strangled laugh in the back of his throat, his arms wrapping around his torso in an attempt to hold himself together. It was the exact same thing, couldn’t Zayn see that in all of his infinite wisdom? He and Harry were making the exact same mistake and the only difference was that Zayn had perspective. He saw it in time to save himself from the fallout. He was going to stop it before it all came to a head and Louis only wished he could have the same good sense. 

But he didn’t. And Harry didn’t. Harry was too wrapped up in a world full of poetry and butterflies and romantic cliches and Louis imagined that he would probably never see things the way that Zayn did. Louis wished he could be the same as Harry. Wished that he could just brush off Zayn’s cynicism and continue to dive in head-first without restraint—but Zayn was right. Zayn had been consistently right and Louis’ couldn’t be naive enough to ignore that fact. As lovely as things had been with Harry the previous night, the only real hope they had at sustainability was their friendship. It had worked without a hitch for months and Louis _had_ to get it back to that place. He had to make Harry see things for what they really were. 

They were going to break and Louis wasn’t going to be able to handle it. 

“Hey,” said Zayn, shaking Louis’ shoulder lightly until Louis met his eyes, “You and Harry work. There’s no sense in questioning that because I said something stupid. I’m fucked up, Louis. I’m fucked up the most when it comes to Liam. I can’t see any of it for what it really is and I really had no right to say those things. Just because I’m scared doesn’t make me right. Harry cares about you more than you know and you can’t fuck that up just because I said something dumb. I’m scared, okay?”

“Yeah,” said Louis, not really knowing what he was even agreeing to. 

“It’s okay if you’re scared, but, like, don’t be stupid like me. Don’t make a choice out of fear.”

 

…

 

Louis had left Zayn’s with a lot of mixed feelings. He had sat on the couch next to Zayn for hours while listening to Zayn attempt to retract his words. Zayn was a great friend, was the thing. Louis didn’t understand how he’d ended up with one of those in his life, but he could see it and he appreciated it. Zayn was fully and truly convinced that Harry and Louis belonged together. 

It was kind of him to try to talk Louis out of his spiral, but Louis knew it was all in vain, because Zayn was right. Any way he looked at it, things were going to end badly. Though to vehemently denied it, no matter now many times Louis said it, Zayn was right. He was right to keep Liam at a distance and Louis would have done well to do the same thing with Harry. 

But he wasn’t. His head and his heart wanted vastly different things. His head kept telling him that it just made sense to detach, to beg Harry to take things back to where they’d been…but his heart? His heart wanted to just throw itself directly into the fray. His heart wanted to abandon all rationale and steal Harry away from the rest of the world. He wanted to live in the tiny bubble that had just been them after the moment Louis had dragged him out onto the balcony. He wanted the rest of the world to keep not mattering. He wanted he and Harry to have a future—to stand a chance. He wanted to defy the picture of relationships that had been painted for him his entire life. 

Maybe it was dumb. Maybe it was was naive as his head was convinced, but it seemed that even though his instincts were pulling him in a million different directions (the two strongest being towards Harry and away from him). There was something inside of him that _knew_ it was going to break. That there would come a point when Harry realized that he wasn’t enough, that he wasn’t good enough and Louis wanted to be properly prepared for that moment. Louis had an innate instinct to ruin things before they even had a chance to get good so that the fall was all within his control. He’d never been able to control any part of his life, and breaking things seemed to be the only thing he was good at. It was a terrible affliction and he prayed that he wasn’t going to do that with Harry. He didn’t want to break it before Harry could. He wanted to coddle it and hold it close for as long as he could. Even if they were doomed to expire, Louis could have it while it lasted. He could let himself be blind to the rest and deal with it when it happened. 

And so, he’d gone against his and Zayn’s better judgement and was currently sitting inside of Marsha outside of Harry’s work with his eyes glued to the door. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach because things were good. They were too good to be trusted and over and over Zayn’s words rang in his head.

_I don’t want to be in love with Liam because I don’t want to lose him._

Louis didn’t want to lose Harry. He didn’t want to break things with him and he felt sick to his stomach at the idea. He could make a list a million miles long about the things he didn’t want. There were a lot of things that he knew he couldn’t live with, a lot of things that he knew he could live with, but didn’t want to. The smaller list, though, even after all the time he had put into himself, was the things he wanted. He was still timid and unsure if he could actually want things. He didn’t know where life was going to take him, what desire he was allowed to give in to.

The one thing he was sure that he wanted, though, was Harry. No matter how stupid or naive that might be. It was strong and steady in his chest. Fuck his mum and Dan. Fuck Liam and Zayn. There was no reason he couldn’t savour it while it lasted. He was used to shit falling apart, but he and Harry didn’t have to fall apart—not yet. Maybe the universe would allot them some time together. When the fall did come, though, Louis kind of wanted to make sure that he didn’t regret anything. He didn’t want to think back on his time with Harry and wish he’d done better, wished he’d not taken a cowardly step back. 

The January air was cool and he kept Marsha idling outside of the coffee shop, watching as the street lamps light up the slushy snowflakes before they landed on the windshield and were brushed away by the wipers. He was nervous for some reason, but when he saw the lights flick off to the store, he started to feel his heartbeat in his throat. 

Then Harry walked out, chatting happily with his supervisor. Louis knew the second that he spotted Louis’ car because he actually saw his face light up, even in the pale light from the streetlamp, it was unmistakable. Harry’s grin was bright and Louis could make out his dimple, even from as far away as he was. Something warm settled into Louis' stomach and he wasn’t so afraid. Harry was just Harry and it seemed like no matter how many times Louis was melancholy and fucking things up entirely, Harry was always willing to wipe the slate clean. He always greeted Louis with the same smile, like nothing awful had ever passed between them. 

Louis could never possibly deserve that boy to be his. No one, could, really because Harry was far too good for this world. There was pretty good chance that Louis had had some kind of severe emotional break and Harry was something that he made up in his head. It was possible because someone so pure and perfect couldn’t really exist. Not in Louis’ life. 

But fuck it, because this was one delusion that Louis wouldn’t mind being lost in. 

Softly Harry pulled the passenger door open, leaning his head in. His smile was tentative, probably remembering the way Louis’ hands had shaken as he lifted them back to the steering wheel after dropping Harry off at work a mere eight hours ago. He hadn’t touched Harry, hadn’t said a proper goodbye, too lost in the downward spiral of his family and it hadn’t been fair. 

But Harry had forgiven him. He felt it in his smile and the small texts he’d sent through the duration of his shift. Harry was always the first to forgive and the first to forget and Louis felt a burning sort of guilt for that. He should be better. 

Harry sat quietly in the passenger’s seat, just watching Louis. He didn’t reach out. He let Louis set the pace, just smiling softly, huge chunky snowflakes caught in his hair and melting down his forehead. 

Louis couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pull back and preserve himself because he _wanted._ He was selfish and he wanted Harry like he’d never known he could want something. Without thinking, his hand was reaching out to Harry and brushing the melted snow from his forehead. 

“Hi,” Harry breathed.

Louis rested his palm against Harry’s cheek, cupping it gently. Harry leaned into the gesture, the smile not big enough to make his dimple pop, but big enough that Louis could see it. 

“Hey,” Louis breathed softly. 

Harry reached up to lay his hand over Louis’, pulling’ his hand toward his plush soft lips. Harry kissed the palm of Louis’ hand softly, sending electrical shocks through Louis’ veins. Why did Harry make him feel so fucking good and so fucking safe?

“How was your day?” Harry asked, holding Louis’ hand in his lap now. 

Honesty. That was the thing that got Louis as far as he had with Harry. There was no point to abandon it. 

“Shit,” he said almost too quiet to hear, “and it’s not your fault and I should have told you why I was upset this morning, but I was scared. I’m still so scared, Harry.”

“’S okay, Lou, its still me. I’m still me. You can tell me,” Harry’s voice flooded the car and it _did_ feel okay. 

“It was my mum and Dan. They were fighting this morning and it was about me and it…it scared me. Maybe its not the same, but I don’t ever want to fight with you like that.”

“And we never will,” said Harry, even though it wasn’t really something he could promise. 

“You don’t know that,”

“Sure I do, Lou,” he insisted, “I would never throw you under the bus, no matter how upset I might be. I would never say something I knew would hurt you. That’s not who I am. I will never be like that.”

Louis took in a sharp breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t just talk to you.”

“Shh,” said Harry, gripping Louis’ hand tighter, “you did talk to me. Its never too late, okay?”

Louis nodded and breathed a deeper breath this time, the air actually filling his lungs and a calm racing through his veins. Harry was perfect. It was a fact. He always knew what to say and Louis wished he could be more like him. He wished that he had the good sense to say the right things the first time around instead of stumbling around stupidly, but maybe he never would. But Harry was patient and he didn’t seem to mind that Louis may never actually catch up. He was willing to wait for Louis to catch up to him and then he softly lead the way to the next place. Harry was boundless and flawless and Louis would never stop being thankful that he’d given him a chance. That Harry had picked him of all the people in the world. 

Harry reached his hand across the space between them to bury his fingers in Louis hair, his breathing soft. Louis didn’t have to over think anything. He felt warm and he felt safe and it didn’t matter that everyone else around them were fucking up—he and Harry weren’t. Harry would never and he would always pull Louis back in. 

He felt Harry’s nose press against his, Harry’s hand on the back of his neck thumbing small circles there, just focusing on breathing the same air that Louis was. Harry’s lips brushed his and Louis’ head spun with the endless amount of things that Harry had given to him—that he continued to give to him. He would never understand it, why Harry wanted to give it to him, but he did and Louis would be a fool not to indulge him. 

Harry’s lips were just a soft whisper against Louis, they weren’t kissing, Harry was just reminding him that he was there. That he would always be there. 

“Do you even know how happy you make me?” 

The words were a delicate whisper against Louis’ lips and, no. He didn’t know. He didn’t understand. 

“Why me?” Louis said just as Harry’s lips pressed firmly against his, Harry’s tongue pressing against the opening of his mouth. This kiss was smooth and supple and it lacked the urgency they’d struck upon that morning. Never had there been a moment in his life where Louis felt safer and more cared for…and it wasn’t even just that. There was something more. Something he couldn’t put a name to, but Harry felt it and he was trying to pour it into Louis. There was a quiet promise whispered between the flick of tongue against tongue that made Louis’ whole body heat with a warmth that he wasn’t accustomed to.

“It was always going to be you, Louis.” Harry promised as he pulled back and looked into Louis’ eyes. There was something burning in Harry’s eyes that seemed less like a fever and more like a forest fire and Louis wanted more. More of Harry. 

Louis reached between him, undoing his seatbelt and quickly turned off the car. They were bombarded with silence and the only thing that Louis could focus on was Harry’s lips as they hovered just a centimetre from his. Quickly he closed the gap, meeting Harry’s tongue with a surprising amount of urgency. He didn’t know what it was that he needed, but he knew Harry had it. It was buried beneath the layers of amazement that made up his boy. He slung his arms desperately around Harry’s neck, the words swirling in his head _it was always going to be you, Louis._ He’d read more Shakespeare than anyone he knew and more poems had passed through his lips on quiet afternoons with Harry than he could remember, but now he knew what true poetry was. True poetry was Harry’s slow voice as he drew out every syllable for just a little longer than the average person. True poetry was in the way that Harry wanted him, honestly and without apology. True poetry was tucked between his lips, in the hollows at the bottom of his jaw, in the soft skin across his collarbones and the feel of his thick curls between Louis’ fingers. 

Harry was poetry and he was writing about Louis. He was marking Louis completely with it. He was leaving his affection everywhere he kissed and Louis wanted to learn the words by heart. He wanted to know every single thing that made up Harry and he wanted to let Harry do the same. He’d never believed that someone would want that, but the urgency and the comfort behind Harry’s kisses was enough to make him believe it, at least while they were like this. While they were wrapped up in each other and the rest of the world couldn’t touch them. 

Louis tugged at Harry, trying to pull him closer, but there was still a divide between them from the space between their seats. That wouldn’t do. Louis needed more. He needed to feel the heat from Harry’s body across his whole being. He needed to have more and more and he didn’t care if it was greedy. Harry wanted to give it. 

“Harry,” he croaked, swinging a knee across the gearshift, desperate for the press of their bodies together. 

Harry made a tiny whimpering sound when he realized that Louis was climbing on top of him and crushed his lips harder against Louis’. Teeth met lips and Louis moaned into the sensation of the pain cutting through the pleasure. Harry was good at this. Of course Harry was good at this. Louis needed more, more, _more._ He needed Harry. All of him. He settled one leg on the seat against Harry’s thigh. If Harry’s reaction was genuine (which Louis really thought it had to be) he didn’t seemed to have a single protest. Instead he tugged on Louis, trying to settle him onto his lap. Louis nipped along Harry’s jawline, fucking bless whatever greek god that was his ancestor and gave Harry that jawline. Quickly, the desperation of it all building in his tummy, Louis tried to lift his remaining leg over to Harry’s seat. Stupidly, his foot got caught along the way and as he pulled back, his arse landed directly on the steering wheel. 

The sound of the horn in the empty parking lot startled them both apart. Louis felt his cheeks flushing, but before he had a chance to be properly mortified, Harry pulled back from him and barked out a heavy laugh, reaching out to pull Louis down properly onto his lap. Louis smiled into this kiss this time, tiny remnants of Harry’s laughter kept slipping through the intense desperation as Louis pressed his hips flush to Harry’s. Harry’s laughter died, then, getting stuck in the back of both of their throats. 

Harry’s teeth nibbled at Louis’ bottom lip and his large hands (holy fuck Harry had enormous hands and it made Louis blush just to think about what he might be able to do with them) went to Louis’ hips, pulling him tighter against him, so their hips were flush and their chests were pressed together. Louis groaned into Harry’s mouth as Harry dug his thumbs into his hipbones. Without warning, Harry’s hips thrust up, his strong hands still holding Louis’ hips in place and Louis closed his eyes, seeing stars. The friction of their groins pressed together was too much. Louis pulled back, embarrassing sounds falling from his mouth. He bit down on his bottom lip to hold them at bay while Harry’s hips rose into his again. Louis attempted to fling his head back with the pleasure of the feeling but wound up whacking the top of his head against the roof harshly.

“Shit,” he said as he felt the pain twinge down his spine, effectively ruining the moment (again), “fuck,” he muttered. 

Harry was laughing again, “baby,” he said, pulling Louis’ face back to his. He kissed the tip of Louis’ nose affectionately, his hands migrating back to Louis’ hips. He tugged Louis down onto him before pressing his lips against Louis’ ear, “I love Marsha, I really do,” he started, “but can we…” his voice broke off as Louis ground down onto his lap, his teeth grating against Harry’s collarbone. “My place,” Harry’s voice was a rasp that Louis felt in the pit of his stomach. 

“Now,” agreed Louis.

Louis dove in for one more long kiss, relishing the feel of Harry’s thumbs pressing bruises into his hips. His tongue moved against Harry’s like it wasn’t just the second day it had been there. They felt like this was well practiced. Like they were old hat at knowing exactly how they fit together. Harry made the most delicious moaning sound as Louis tugged harder and harder at the hair at the nape of his neck. Louis felt the moan trigger a pleasure rush through his entire body. Without thinking, again, he ground his hips against Harry. 

“Jesus, Louis,” Harry breathed from beneath him, “you’re trying to kill me. Let’s _go,”_ he begged. 

 

…

 

Harry’s hands were warm and made of magic, Louis was 100% certain of that. Louis was pressed against the back of the elevator and while it creaked the whole way up to Harry’s floor, Harry’s hands explored. First, they flirted with the hem of Louis’ jumper, not wanting to push too far. Eventually, though, as Louis showed his receptiveness by deepening the kiss, Harry got braver. His hands slid under Louis’ shirt and rested against bare skin and Louis was pretty sure that he was going to die from too much good. Harry’s hands were warm and his nails dug into the small of his back, his kisses trailing along Louis’ neck. Louis’ whole body was on fire with his desire and he couldn’t even remember what it was like before he’d had this. He couldn’t remember anything before Harry’s mouth on his, Harry’s hard-on pressed against his thigh…

And, oh, god. _Harry’s hard on…_

He could feel the heat against him, the want, and it was all for him. Harry’s want and Louis’ _need._ Louis needed him, needed him everywhere and anywhere and he was off balance and the only thing that he could focus on the was feel of Harry’s shaft against his leg. He felt his cheeks flushing as he thought about Harry, hard against his trousers because he was kissing _Louis._ Louis didn’t think it was possible to have this sort of affect on anyone, let alone the physical embodiment of perfection that was Harry Styles. 

Harry rutted up against him, groaning into their kiss and Louis tugged at his hair, teeth clanking against teeth and whatever softness they’d found for that moment in Marsha had been torched by their desire. Louis was tugging and pulling and Harry was gripping and bruising and thrusting and the whole world was a giant blur around them as Louis got lost in his desire for the boy in his arms. He wanted so much more and fucking bless the gods because the elevator finally chimed and Harry grunted against his mouth. He pulled back and panted down at Louis, his emerald eyes shimmering in a way that Louis wasn’t used to. There was a shadow cast there, a sort of glint in his eyes that Louis wanted to memorize, because he’d done that. Harry looked wrecked and it was because of Louis and _fuck._ They hadn’t even really done anything—not really. Just a couple of desperate thrusts of clothed hard cock against clothed hard cock, but it was divine. 

Harry tugged at his hand then, dragging him down the hall toward his flat. Before he pulled out his keys, Harry spun Louis around until his back slammed into the front door to his flat and kissed him with a ferocity that Louis kind of really wanted to get used to. Harry slotted his thick thigh between Louis legs, brushing up against Louis’ hard need. 

“Is that for me, baby?” he mumbled as he sucked a lovebite into the skin next to Louis’ Adam’s apple. 

Oh, _god_ , how had Louis never noticed how fucking sexy Harry’s voice was against his eardrums. He wanted to answer, but he was speechless. Of course it was for Harry. It was all for Harry. It had always been all for Harry even before Louis understood it. The way the peach fuzz on every part of his body had jumped up whenever their hands brushed, the way he’d memorized every single word that Harry had ever said to him. The way he finally learned how to get a good night’s sleep once he found the right place to do it (Harry’s arms)—it was all for him. Every part of Louis had existed in just the hopes that someday there would be this. 

Harry’s hand found Louis’ then, pulling it from where it was wrapped into his curls. Harry’s breath flew across the wet skin where he’d been kissing, sending shockwaves everywhere in Louis’ body. Slowly Harry worked Louis’ hand between them, resting it on the bulge in his pants, breathing into Louis’ mouth and closing his eyes at the feel of Louis palming him from outside of his pants. 

“For you, sweetheart,” Harry said against his mouth, “want you so much, baby.”

Louis didn’t have any words, not like Harry did so he just let out a small whimper at the feel of Harry against his fingers. His head was spinning, screaming for more—for release, for Harry. For everything and anything that that might mean. 

Louis slammed his head hard against the door, his vision going a bit blurry with the sensation and Harry ground his thigh harder against Louis’ dick, creating the most immaculate friction and fuck. Louis was done. He was so done and thank god that Harry knew how to take the lead because if it was up to Louis he would just grind against Harry until he came in his pants and blacked out from the sheer thrill of it, right there against the door. 

Harry had better plans, though, and he collected Louis in his arms, pulling him off the door and stuffing his key into the hole. He flung the door open then and pulled Louis in after him. Niall was kind of hovering in the doorway, like he’d heard the commotion against he door but hadn’t been quite brave enough to open it and investigate. He met Harry’s eyes then, recognition flickering in his features. Harry’s hand was clinging tightly to Louis’ and he only paused a moment to meet Niall’s eyes. In that second Louis saw Niall’s eyes flicker to his crotch and then recognition settled in his expression just as the biggest blush of his life took over Louis’ face. 

“Lads,” he said, turning away and waving over his shoulder, a snicker in his voice. 

Harry’s lips were at his ear then, kissing and sucking and whispering, “want you, Lou.”

Louis couldn’t really waste a second bothering to be embarrassed by Niall because Harry was all over him and he was tugging him toward his bedroom. Louis was vaguely aware of the wolf whistles that followed them down the short hallway, but he didn’t pay attention. He couldn’t pay attention to anything other than the slow ache in his belly and the way that Harry seemed to just amplify it, like he was literally put on this earth to torture Louis in the most marvellous way. 

Harry pulled Louis passed the threshold of his bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. Instantly he was gathering Louis up in his arms, his hands sliding up under Louis’ jumper, tugging it up and it took a minute in his fevered confusion for Louis to catch on. 

“Off,” Harry mumbled as he tugged the shirt over Louis’ head.

Harry’s room was always cool, he always kept the window open claiming it helped him sleep better and saved on hydro bills. The cool air rushed over Louis’ bare chest and sent more shivers down his spine, this time serving to clear his mind. Now he was aware that Harry was about a foot away from him just kind of staring, sucking on his bottom lip. His eyes were hazy and the bulge in his pants was more pronounced now than it had been in the hallway. In any other moment of his life, Louis wouldn’t have been able to take it. He wouldn’t have been able to stand there half naked while someone stared at him and not fall apart. This was different though, this was Harry and Harry was taking care of him. Treating him instinctually exactly the way that he needed to be treated—with care and confidence and Louis was just putty for him. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Harry chanted, swaying a bit in place, hand reaching out to palm himself through his trousers. Louis felt his dick twitch at the sight. “Fuck, Lou, fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Harry’s voice cracked on the words and then he was all over him again. 

He kissed Louis with fervour, his hands exploring the newly exposed skin. It didn’t take long before Harry’s thumb flicked over one of Louis’ hardened nipples. Harry groaned into Louis neck, biting down harshly while he squeezed the nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Fuck, you’re too much, Lou. You’re gorgeous. Need to feel you,” 

Somehow, by the glory of blind intuition, Louis found his fingers unbuttoning Harry’s espresso scented black dress shirt. Intuition was a fucking beautiful thing and he realized that the second he managed to undo the last button and Harry’s exquisite chest was made available to him. His teeth found Harry’s collarbones again, his hands sliding across the smooth skin on his back and resting at the top of his trousers. 

Harry’s intuition, though, it was so much better than Louis’. So much more efficient. He slid Louis’ hands to the front of his pants. 

“I want you to feel me,”

Somehow, by the grace of intuition again, Louis assumed, he found himself remembering how to move his fingers. He undid the button to Harry’s pants and he felt a bit light-headed with Harry looking down at him, encouragement and lust in his eyes tangled with emotions that Louis didn’t understand. Somehow, Harry’s composure seemed perfectly intact despite the completely wrecked twinge in his eyes and the puffiness of his lips. He was panting and any sound that Harry made seemed to feel like electricity across Louis’ skin. His hands only shook slightly as he dragged the zipper down and of. fucking. course. Harry was not wearing underwear. Harry stepped in, then, tearing his trousers down and stepping out of them to close the distance between them. 

Even as Harry’s lips found his, Louis wasn’t able to shake the image of Harry’s hard cock as it had (finally??) made it’s appearance in Louis life. He wanted to salivate at the thought of what he’d taste like, but instead he moaned into Harry’s mouth thinking about how gorgeous he was. He was so big, Louis wondered vaguely if he’d even be able to take the whole thing down his throat and his mind started to short circuit around the thoughts of choking on Harry’s cock. 

Harry’s hands were at the front of Louis’ pants now, a question burning in his eyes. Even while so clearly being lost in lust, Harry was taking care. Louis whimpered into Harry’s mouth, finally, finally finding his voice. 

“Please,” he begged, guiding Harry’s hands to his waistband. 

Harry didn’t even waste a second hesitating. He undid Louis’ trousers and they fell quickly to the floor. Harry made a humming sound in the back of his throat as he palmed Louis from the outside of his briefs. 

“Oh, baby,” Harry was purring, Louis was absolutely certain of it, “you’re so hard for me. So fucking gorgeous.”

Louis didn’t know how to speak. He’d lost his voice again, so he dove in to kiss Harry instead. He sucked on Harry’s glorious bottom lip just as he felt Harry’s hands slide into the sides of his briefs, slowly peeling them down. Oh, god. This was too much good. How did Louis ever deserve this much good? How could he ever sum up what Harry was doing to him. 

It happened pretty fast after that moment. Louis was naked against Harry and he almost came the second that he felt Harry’s dick slide against his, but he somehow managed to hold back. Harry pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him as they snogged the fuck out of each other while they moaned at the sensation of their cocks together. Louis was completely and totally lost in a fire of complete ecstasy. Harry dragged his tongue across Louis’ chest and stopped when he got to his left nipple, taking the hardened bud in his mouth and flicking his tongue against it. Louis rutted up against Harry, feeling his tip starting to leak. 

“Oh baby you’re so good for me,” Harry whispered as his head dipped lower and he leaned in to lap up the pre-cum beading at the end of Louis’ cock. His tongue was soft and gentle and the feel of it had Louis digging the heel of his palms into his eyes. More. _More._ He needed more and the tiny little kitten licks that Harry was giving to him weren’t enough. 

“Ha-Harry,” he managed while forcing himself to open his eyes. The vision was enough to suddenly make him religious because Harry’s hair was sweaty and matted to his head and his perfect, long tongue darted out again and licked from the base of Louis’ shaft to the sensitive tip, all while he maintained perfect eye contact. 

Kissing. Why the fuck weren’t they kissing?

Louis reached out his hands and tugged at his shoulders trying to communicate what he wanted. Thankfully, Harry was some kind of mind reader and he kissed Louis’ inner thigh one time, nipping it playfully and then crawled back up to Louis’ face. He cupped Louis’ chin carefully and dipped in for a soft kiss. Louis’ head spun while he tasted himself on Harry’s tongue. It was divine. Harry was flawless and Louis could just barely wrap his mind around it. 

Harry, on the other hand, seemed to not deviate from his mission to ruin Louis life by giving him the entire world. His hand slid between them and Louis bucked up the second he felt Harry’s soft hand around the base of his dick. He bit Harry’s lip because he didn’t know what the fuck else to do because he was going to come in about half a second if any more parts of Harry continued to touch him like this. 

“Oh fuck, Lou, you’re so thick, so pretty. So hard for me.”

“Yeah,” the word slipped out and Louis deserved a round of applause for even being able to remember the English language in a moment like this. 

Carefully, hand still around Louis’ cock, Harry slid an arm around him, tugging him up until they were both kneeling on his bed in front of each other. Harry slid his shaft against Louis’ then and Louis almost suffocated on his own tongue. 

“Can you feel me?” Harry asked in his ear, voice low and dripping with prowess, “I’m so hard for you baby.”

Louis might have sobbed. He wasn’t sure, but Harry knew what to do. He pulled him closer, pressing their chests together. He kissed Louis softly, affection behind the gesture that Louis could barely process. Then Harry did the unspeakable and wrapped his giant hand around both of them, moving slow. 

“I just wanna make you feel good, Lou. Let me take care of you.”

Louis nodded because he couldn’t find any words. He didn’t know if he would ever know what to say again. That seemed okay, though, because Harry’s instincts were flawless. He knew exactly what to do. He knew exactly how to hold Louis, how to kiss him, how to touch him to make him feel safe and Louis had never had that. He’d never imagined it could be like this. 

“I wanna come with you baby, tell me when you’re close. God, you’re so perfect,” Harry’s spoke soft words of encouragement in Louis ear while he pumped them both steadily and Louis could feel the slick wetness and he wasn’t sure if it was his or if it was Harry’s and that was probably the best part of it all. They were tangled up in each other, dicks pressed together, chests pressed together and lips and tongues tangling in the most intricate way. Louis was lost and he never ever wanted to be found again. He wanted to live in this moment for the rest of his life. 

He didn’t know how long it had been happening, maybe he’d gapped out in some blissful Neverland and it had been ages or maybe Harry’s hand had only been there for a mere few seconds, but regardless Louis felt the tell tale sign of his orgasm budding inside of him. Heat rushed through his tummy and his nails dug into Harry’s back. His body went slack in Harry’s arms and he tried to remember how to breathe, but that was also kind of impossible as he looked down at Harry’s hand wrapped around them and Louis had never in his life been this close to another person. Harry was everywhere. He was all Louis could see. Harry’s breath was all Louis could taste and his pants and grunts were all Louis could hear. Harry’s heady sent of desire was all Louis could smell when he breathed in and fuck, fuck, fuck, the feeling of their skin together. It was everything. Harry was overwhelming him completely.

“‘M gunna…” Louis’ voice broke off as he felt it building. He wasn’t going to last another second. 

“Oh, fuck, me too, Lou. Me too. Come with me.”

Louis closed his eyes then, fireworks exploding behind his lids as he spilled all over Harry’s hand. It seemed to last forever. He just kept coming and coming and Harry stroked them both through it without wavering for a second. When the last of it spurted out of Louis there was a solid few seconds of just pure bliss. He was crying. He was definitely crying but he didn’t think it was a bad cry. He was just so fucking maxed out with happiness that he didn’t know what to do. Harry pulled him down on the blankets next to him. 

“You were fucking brilliant, Lou,” he murmured as he kissed Louis cheeks, his forehead, his hair, his nose. “So good, Louis. So gorgeous.”

And then it hit—kind of like one of those cartoon anvils. It came out of nowhere and there was no way that Louis could have expected it because sex had never been like this for him before. It had never been so pure and kind and _mutual_. It had never been something that left him feeling better than utter garbage, so it just made sense, he supposed, that the muscle memory would creep in. That the dirtiness and shame that he felt every single other time he’d ever had an orgasm would sneak in and ruin everything. 

It sunk into his stomach, the familiar ugly darkness that he was so used to when it was with Matt. The shame, the regret, the memory of callous words meant to tear at his fragile state of mind. He felt dirty and it wasn’t fair because it wasn’t supposed to be like this—not with Harry. It wasn’t supposed to make him feel like garbage. Harry was supposed to be safe—he was supposed to be different. 

It kept washing over him, the feeling of regret and shame and disgust. He felt his and Harry’s come all of his tummy and half a second ago it had been pure bliss but now he was just dirty and disgusting and used up and he could remember so vividly all the times he’d balled up on a naked hotel mattress next to Matt while he snapped at him to put some fucking clothes on. To clean up his disgusting mess. 

Now he was crying. He was crying for real and his breathing was too fast and none of the air was making it to his lungs. He curled in on himself then, the memory of the bliss he’s d just shared with Harry was a ghost now. He wrapped his arms around his knees and he was shaking and he was aware that Harry was right there. Right behind him and he was talking but none of it mattered because Louis way laying there in his bed, naked and ashamed. He just had to wait it out. He just had to let the feeling take him over and then it would pass and he could clean up after himself. He could wash the sheets so Harry didn’t have to sleep in a pool full of his disgusting self. He could be good. He could still fix this, all he had to do was ride out this awful feeling. 

Somewhere through the chaos in his head, he was aware of Harry’s hand on his back, his voice asking questions but none of them made sense. Louis wished he was alone. He wished he was anywhere but in Harry’s bed taking up his time and his space and his emotions. 

The feeling didn’t pass, though. The shame and disgust lingered and all Louis could think about was how dirty he was, how dirty he’d made Harry. He should have controlled himself. He should have been good and he should have just blown Harry and swallowed it all, had a quick wank on the way home and saved Harry this this trouble. Now it was a mess. They were a mess and Louis was going to have to somehow get up, covered in come and put on his clothes and walk past Niall and none of this was good. There was no good here, only shameful, bad, disgusting decisions and Louis hated himself. He fucking hated himself for not having enough strength to know this was a bad idea. He had to stop doing this. He had to stop searching out this feeling. 

The pillow he was laying on was soaked in tears now, and he’d fucked up again. Making more messes of Harry’s room, but he couldn’t stop. The tears were coming with a panicked urgency and he didn’t know if it was ever going to stop. He wasn’t sure if the black feeling in his head and his chest was ever going to leave this time. It was bad. It was so bad and over and over he just kept remembering the times with Matt. He wasn’t supposed to come, he wasn’t supposed to make a mess and Matt had always held it against him when he did. He was weak, weak, weak. He was supposed to give, not take for himself. 

Everything was blackness. Everything was shame and everything was regret. 

Then he felt his body being lifted up. Harry cradled Louis in his arms and for some reason that made the tears come even harder. He could feel Harry’s lips, pressing against his head and he didn’t understand any of it. Wasn’t Harry mad? Wasn’t he upset that Louis had been so greedy and disgusting? 

Harry started walking then, carrying Louis in his arms and whispering all kinds of things that Louis wasn’t able to process against the blackness in his chest. Suddenly, they were in the light, and Harry laid him down. Bathtub. Louis was in the bathtub and Harry reached behind him to pull the door shut and then he hummed some kind of words that felt vaguely soothing, even though Louis couldn’t make any of them out. Harry turned on the water then, the warmth of the stream broke through the darkness slightly.  Louis could see now, as Harry climbed into the shower next to him. His hands were soft and gentle as he took down the shower head to wet Louis’ hair. Once he’d done that, Louis felt delicate hands lathering up his hair and he didn’t think he was crying anymore. He was too confused. 

Harry was taking care of him. He’d carried Louis’ pathetic and spent body into the washroom and now he was washing him? His hands were so careful and soft and he just kept talking. A constant stream of drabble that Louis couldn’t make out, but it felt nice. It settled around in the spaces in his chest that weren’t shrouded in the blackness and the more Harry spoke, the more Louis felt less like he was on the verge of panic. The fight or flight had run its course and Louis didn’t want to lash out, he didn’t want to run away. He just wanted to sit there, exactly where he was on the floor of the shower and focus on the soft way that Harry’s hands worked over his body, scrubbing him clean like he knew how dirty Louis felt. How did Harry always know everything? How was Louis always so transparent? 

This time, as Harry used the shower head to rinse Louis’ hair, the words broke though. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Lou. ‘M right here, I promise,”

What did Harry think of Louis now? A pathetic bundle of darkness on the floor in his shower. He couldn’t even move, couldn’t even speak or hear or fucking clean up after himself. How dare Harry try to comfort him? He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of it because he’d been nothing but pathetic for his entire life. Now wasn’t any different. He hadn’t even taken care of Harry. He’d been selfish, he’d made Harry do all the work. He was still making Harry do all the work. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice came out with another sob, and he was cracking. He was breaking again and the tears were back. 

He felt Harry’s arms wrap around him, his lips pressing to his temple. This time he made out the words again. 

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, Louis Tomlinson,” there was an edge to Harry’s voice, was it fondness laced with guilt? That’s what it felt like, “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I didn’t even give you a chance to say no. I’m so fucking sorry, Lou.”

Harry was crying. He was definitely crying too and Louis should comfort him but he was a fucking mess. 

They were quiet after that. Harry lifted Louis to his feet and rubbed a soft cloth across his shoulder blades, along his tummy. Harry was so good. So good and Louis had made him cry. He’d ruined the whole thing. It was supposed to be good and different and it all ended up the same. Louis was a fucking mess and it didn’t matter who he was with, he was going to bring them down. 

Harry scrubbed himself quickly, his eyes never leaving Louis’. Still, though, he didn’t speak. Louis felt deafened by the silence in the room. Harry always spoke. Louis had broken it and now Harry wasn’t speaking and he was absolutely positive that that world was going to end. It had to because the blackness was eating up his chest and his heart and his head—and Harry. 

A sob ripped out of his throat and he crashed back to the floor of the shower, naked and ashamed of everything that he was. Of everything that he wasn’t. Harry was next to him in a second, lips pressing against his jaw. 

“Louis, baby, you’re perfect, do you know that?” the words didn’t make sense, shouldn’t Harry be mad at him for bring the darkness in? “you were so lovely, and I can’t pretend I know what’s happening to you, but you have to know the truth, okay? You’re beautiful and I think you’re perfect, I think what we shared was perfect. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Its’ just me, just Harry. You can be yourself with me, Louis, that’s all I ever wanted. You gave me everything I wanted. You gave me you and it was beautiful and I will always take care of you.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. Let me know if this went anywhere near the way you thought it would, because I'm the kind of writer who always goes in with a plan and I kiiiiind of deviated a little here. Its stressful. 
> 
> But the rest of this story is blocked out and I know how all the other chapters will go, so its just a matter of hammering them out. I hope you're ready to see this thing get wrapped up (after a couple more twists). 
> 
> Also let it be said that smut has never been my area of expertise, but I really tried!
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> Instagram feels.like.home01


	24. XXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite chapter I've written so far. 
> 
> Trigger warning for facing of more sexual demons from Louis' past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some major song inspiration in this chapter.
> 
> For Harry's POV: Paper Houses, Flicker and The Tide by the lovely Nialler!
> 
> And Louis' song is just so fucking perfect- Too Good at Goodbyes by Sam Smith (this might be the most Louis song ever)
> 
> Sidenote: this week I am turning OLD AS FUCK (don't ask me how old--it hurts me deep) (I found my first grey hair).
> 
> Weep for me and my youth.

Louis’ eyes opened slowly and he looked around the room. It was dark and the alarm clock next to Harry’s bed said it was just passed two a.m. There was a brief second where Louis didn’t remember what had happened. For a split second he just felt normal and warm next to Harry. The blissful ignorance didn’t last long before the memories came flooding back to him. He wasn’t sure what the worst part of it all was. 

Was it the part where he’d let Harry give and give and he just selfishly took? Was it the part where he’d made a mess all over Harry and hadn’t even had the ability to clean it up? Was it the part where, even after all the good Harry had given to him, he still couldn’t feel it? He was still broken and it was _still_ the same shame and fear that it had been with Matt. Or was it the fact that he’d broken so completely right in front of Harry, not even having the good sense to _try_ to hold it together? Or, and he was leaning toward this, was it the fact that he’d just sat pathetically by crying like a child while Harry bathed him and tried to make him feel like a human being again?

Forget all of the dozens of other awful things he’d felt before, the shame and embarrassment he felt in himself at that moment was overwhelming. How could he ever look Harry in the eyes again? He’d fucked it all up just by giving Harry exactly what he wanted. He’d been himself, just like Harry had asked and it was awful. Surely, Harry had no idea what he’d been asking of Louis. Even Louis couldn’t have predicted his reaction—his break. He hadn’t felt it coming, he’d been so wrapped up in the good that, for the first time in his life, he hadn't planned for the bad. 

He needed to get away before he had to face Harry. He had to get away from the pity he knew would be burning behind his green eyes. He never wanted to be on the receiving end of it, but this pity would be different. This pity would spark all kinds of spirals within Louis. This pity would serve to ignite the overwhelming embarrassment he felt in his chest. 

Louis peeled back the blanket carefully, trying his best not to move too much. He didn’t want to wake Harry. He didn’t want to face any of it. He was wearing one of Harry’s too-big tracksuits. Fuck. Harry had bathed him and dressed him and put him to bed and Louis couldn’t even _remember_. He couldn’t remember anything but the pure mortification of being curled up on the floor of the bathtub, bawling while Harry said things he hope would stop it. 

Louis was too much. He was way more than Harry would have signed up for if he’d have known. Which was okay. It was all okay. He’d save Harry he heartache and obligation and he’d leave. 

He’d just got his second foot on the floor while he felt blindly on the night table for his keys when he heard Harry’s voice. 

“Lou?” The word was thick with sleep. 

Louis chose to ignore it. He didn’t want to try to put words to what he was feeling. He couldn’t talk to Harry. He couldn’t do it. 

Finally, he felt his fingers run over the keys to Marsha. Freedom. He snatched them as quickly as he could, praying that Harry wasn’t really awake. Maybe it was just sleepy mumbles. Maybe Louis was in the clear. He could make it down to Marsha, maybe even all the way back to his house and then he could break again. He just had to make it out of that tiny fucking bedroom. 

“For fucks sake,” Louis risked a glance over his shoulder and Harry was sitting up in his bed. He was staring at Louis with hundreds of questions on his lips. Louis didn’t want to hear them. He wanted to go. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled and took a step toward the door. Sanctuary was anywhere just past that door and Louis needed it. 

“Louis don’t you dare walk out that door,” 

There wasn’t much of a real threat behind the words, so Louis dared to ignore them and took another step toward safety. 

“Jesus Christ, Louis, _say something_ ,” Harry begged, tugging the blankets of of himself. 

“What do you want me to say,” Louis’ voice cracked on the words. 

“I want you to talk to me, obviously. Just tell me what you’re feeling. Make me understand.” 

The words held a desperate edge to them. Harry looked like he was ready to cry or scream and like he truly didn’t have a clue what was the better option. 

“I can’t,” Louis said, braving another step. Five more and the doorknob would be within his reach. Salvation. 

“You can,” Harry demanded, “you can, Louis, you have to.”

Louis took another two steps. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t talk about this with Harry. He couldn’t face his mortification and he couldn’t let Harry convince him that it was okay. It wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay and how he’d reacted to the most normal thing in the world definitely wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay and Harry deserved so much better than ‘okay’. 

“Lou, I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Don’t push me away. I can help, but you have to let me try.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said again, not turning around. He took another step forward, hand clenching around the keys. 

“No,” this time there was a firmness to Harry’s voice that Louis didn’t recognize. Fear prickled down his spine. He was still too close to the whole thing. He was still too vulnerable, and maybe he couldn’t expect Harry to know that, but the fear made him need to escape even more. 

“You don’t get to do this, Louis. Not again. You don’t get to keep pushing me and pulling me. Sorry isn’t enough—I’m sick of you being sorry. Just stay, _please_. Talk to me. Tell me what I did. Tell me if I can fix it. Tell me if you _want_ me to fix it. You can’t just keep pushing me away, I’m a person, Lou. I deserve for you to respect that. You can’t just run away in the middle of the night. _You have to stop running away from me._ ”

Louis bit down on his lip, tears burning from behind his eyelids. He still didn’t turn around, he was just frozen in place, three steps away from freedom. “I can’t stay,”

“You _can,_ ” argued Harry, “you can stay and you can tell me what I did wrong so I can never, ever do it again.” 

Harry sounded broken. Louis had put that there. All along, through this whole thing Louis had known he’d muck it up. He’d known he was destined to ruin Harry. It had all just been a matter of time and leave it to Louis and the whisper of sex to be the thing to take them down. It was the easiest thing in the world for anyone else, the thing that normal couples came by so easily, but it could never be like that for Louis. Last night had shown him just how far he hadn’t come in all the months since he’d woken up in that hospital. 

He braved one more step forward before he heard Harry’s voice, jagged and broken and he sounded like he was on the verge of breaking apart. Louis had done that. 

“It was my fault, wasn’t it? I pushed you and I hate myself. Louis, I don’t know how I can apologize to you for that.”

Fuck. Louis couldn’t leave it like that. Couldn’t leave Harry blaming himself. 

“It wasn’t you,” was all he managed to say. 

“Well, it wasn’t you, Lou. You were perfect.”

“But I’m not, though,” the argument felt thick and heavy on his tongue, “I should have been fine but I wasn’t and that not your fault. There’s something wrong inside of me and it’s stupid. It’s stupid because I’m not normal. I should have been fine, but I can’t be. I can’t just do those things like a normal person and I forgot that, but I remember now. I won’t let myself let you down again. You deserve someone who can give you that part. I want to be good for you, but I wasn’t. I can't be.”

“Louis,” Harry’s voice sounded absolutely broken. Louis chest hurt from the sound, “you are so much more than that. You are worth so much more than sex. It’s not about that for me, okay? I’m sorry if I made you think that way, but you’re worth more than that. You have nothing to prove to me.”

The words hit too close to Louis’ heart. They hurt and he felt his face flushing and he knew that he couldn’t face Harry. “Harry, I—“

“No. You can’t walk away from me. I can’t lose you, Louis. Please, just, whatever it is you need tell me. If sex it too much, that’s fine, Louis. I can wait. I would gladly wait for you, but I can’t if you walk away. I can’t keep doing this,” Harry sighed, “just please, Lou, take the lead. I’ll follow. I can be whatever you need me to be. “

“I have to go, Harry. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

There was a still silence in the room and for some reason, Louis was glued to the floor. He wasn’t leaving and he knew he should be because Harry was giving him a chance now. He’d finally stopped pleading with him. Finally, the spell was broken and he felt his feet leading him forward. 

“Fuck sake, Louis. I can’t fight for you because everything is a line. You’ve made everything a line I can’t cross.”

“Because I’m fucked up, okay?”

“No, Louis, you’re not. You think you are and you think I have to treat you different but there’s nothing wrong with you aside from the things you think there is. Do you know how frustrating this has been? Every time I try anything I’m afraid you’re going to pull back.”

“So stop trying,”

“No,” said Harry, voice firm, “because you’re worth it. You deserve someone to fight for you instead of against you. Why won’t you just let me be that person?”

“Because I don’t deserve that. You deserve more than me, okay? I don’t know how to give you what you want.”

“Bullshit,” said Harry, “it’s all bullshit. You know how to give me exactly what I want, you’re just scared. You’re scared I’m going to suddenly be one of those people that hurt you, but I never will, Lou. You have this idea that the whole world is out of your control, but it’s not. You have nothing but control, especially when it comes to me. I don’t have a grip on any of this, you control it all and it’s not fucking fair, you know? Just because I let you have that control doesn’t mean you just get to break us whenever you feel like it. You’re not being fair.”

“Harry stop.”

“No, Lou, you listen. Not everyone is going to let you down, why can’t you see that?” 

Harry echoed the words that Terri had said time and time again and it was all too much for Louis. His head was a mess. The crash from the bliss he’d had for the first time in his life was still a lot to process. He still wasn’t sure how to recover from it. He wasn’t sure if he could. He was disappointed in himself and it had so little to do with Harry it was insane. He’d finally had the opportunity to experience proper closeness with a person who actually cared about him and he couldn’t even handle it. 

“I don’t want to say it, because I know it upsets you when I bring him up, but I’m not Matt, Louis. You aren’t disposable to me. I want to spend every night with you and show you exactly how you deserve to be treated, but you won’t let me. You just keep pushing me away.”

Louis didn’t speak. He braved a glance over his shoulder and Harry was still sitting on the bed, staring at him with the most broken expression in the world. Louis had done that. The reminders just kept hitting him over and over. He broke Harry. All the time. Harry deserved so much more. 

“Fuck, Louis, I’m begging you here. I just need you to say something. We were fine and then you weren’t and you aren’t even trying to help me understand. I thought you finally felt the same about me,” Harry’s voice broke on the words, “you gave me you and it was so perfect. Don’t take it away, Lou. Please.”

“I’m gonna go,” said Louis, surprising himself with the finality to his voice. 

“I’m in love with you, you know?” Harry’s voice was a soft whisper, “I thought you felt the same. I thought you’d _let_ yourself feel the same.”

 

…

 

Once Louis was sitting behind the steering wheel of Marsha, it was pretty obvious that he had no fucking idea what he was doing. Now the word wasn’t just a quiet whisper of a question against the back of his neck. Now Harry had stuck it out there, had shoved it in his face. Louis didn’t get it. Didn’t understand how to process the feeling and he certainly couldn’t figure out how to make sense of the fact that Harry felt it for him. He hadn’t done anything right from the get-go. He’d misunderstood every single social cue from the day he’d met Harry and he’d missed all the suggestions that Harry had made. He’d pushed him away and he’d fucked up time and time again. It didn’t make sense that Harry wanted him. 

There was something horrifying about the concept of going back to his bedroom and laying in the dark trying not to think about anything. He knew he’d break. He knew it was still too fresh and still too confusing. He wouldn’t be able to handle being alone. He’d get swept away in the mess in his head. The darkness would take him over as he relived what had gone wrong over and over. 

So he pulled out his phone and texted the only person he knew would be awake. 

 

...

 

As soon as the front door opened, cigarette smoke flooded into the hallway, making Louis’ eyes burn. 

“Well, well, well, look who we have here,” Zayn smiled, “I think I may have underestimated you, Tommo.”

Louis really wished he had some sort of clue about what Zayn was talking about, but he never did, so what else was new? 

Zayn side-stepped and let Louis walk into the flat. He made his way immediately to the couch, flopping down and letting out the breath he’d been holding in for longer than he could remember. Zayn sat down next to him, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“I understand congratulations are in order,” said Zayn, grin still firmly in place, “I must say I’m surprised after all the stupid shit I said, but I’m glad you ignored me. Harry must be positively glowing.”

Louis simply raised an eyebrow at Zayn, indicating that he had no idea what he was talking about. Zayn didn’t pay attention. 

“Its about time, too. I was getting sick of feeling the sexual tension between you two. It must have been good, yeah? Everything you dreamed it would be?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Louis had learned he needed to be direct with Zayn. He was still new to Louis’ social incompetence. 

“I talked to Niall. I know you and Harry shagged.”

Louis’ blush spread across his face at an alarming speed. He felt the dirty blackness tugging at his chest, wanting to make its way back in. He must have been silent for too long because Zayn started to backpedal then, like he knew he touched a nerve. 

“Er—sorry mate. That was kind of tactless.”

Louis still didn’t speak. Coming to see Zayn was meant to be the way that Louis eased the blackness out of his chest, but it seemed like exactly the opposite was happening. Louis was suffocating on the feeling now. There was no way he could ever even try to explain that to Zayn though. Like he would even want to. He didn’t need Zayn thinking any worse of him than he probably already did. 

“Jeez, I feel like a twat now,” Zayn said, awkwardly clearing his throat, “was, uh, was that your first time? Was I a total sleezebag for making it into a joke?”

If it would have been possible, Louis probably would have blushed harder, but he was already at capacity. Quickly he shook his head, not really sure if maybe the admission that, no, Harry wasn’t his first might actually be more humiliating than claiming virginity. 

“So, things are...good now? Between you and Harry?” The awkwardness in Zayn’s voice gave away the fact he seemed pretty certain he’d struck upon the truth. 

“Things are...” Louis felt like he was going to vomit on the words, “not good.”

“Jesus Louis, you two are a soap opera. I thought you finally got your shit sorted.”

Louis huffed a sigh, wanting both to escape the conversation and to keep listening to Zayn’s calm rationale. 

“What happened?”

Louis bit his lip, “it got bad... after New Years when we, uh, kissed.”

“Yeah, okay, if by ‘uh kissed’ you mean the time you snogged the fuck out of him.”

“Zayn,” Warned louis. 

“What?” Challenged Zayn, “I’m just telling you how it is. I saw it happen, Harry had nothing to do with that. It was all you and if you think you can get away with putting any of the ownership on Harry, you’re very wrong. That boy was waiting for you to make the first move and you shouldn’t be surprised that he reacted when you finally did.”

“Zayn,” whined louis, “you don’t get it.”

“Oh it get it,” Zayn’s voice was cool in a way that it had never been with Louis before, “I get that you’re scared and fucked up from whatever happened to you before him, but it’s not a game Louis. Harry is fucking gone for you, you know? He wants it all, and you do too, you’re just too fucking stunned to see it.”

“I’m not... I’m not good for him, you know?”

“Rubbish,” Zayn's voice was harsh, “you _are_. You’re the best for him. Let me tell you a little tale about Harry,” Zayn paused for only a second to light up a cigarette, “first time I met him was last year when he came for a weekend to visit Niall and he was not the same person. He was timid and shy and it was pretty easy to tell that the rest of the world had beaten him down. He didn’t have any confidence,” Zayn exhaled, “but then he came here and he met you and it’s like he finally had something to do with all of his kindness. Lad’s got a good heart, you know? I think you might have been the first person who needed that from him, though. He’s not the same as he was before. You make him better. You give him confidence because it’s like he knows you need him to be like that. The kid’s so fucking in love with you and you’re too stunned to see you’re in love with him too.”

 

…

 

“Louis, are you okay sweetheart?” were the first words out of Terri’s mouth when he walked through her office door, two days after walking out of Harry’s flat in the middle of the night. 

No. 

No, he was absolutely _not_ okay. He was a fucking wreck. He’d spent the last two days barely leaving his room. Zayn had been texting, but he’d been ignoring it. He was choking on darkness and his nightmares hadn’t even been exclusive to night. Anytime he felt himself drifting off he dreamed of Matt. He dreamed of sex in all of the most horrifying and graphic ways that his psyche could come up with. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days, and really he hadn’t. There were few blissful moments that were untrained by his dreams, but they didn’t total up enough to remove any of the dark circles under his eyes. 

Louis was, in short, falling the fuck apart. He’d made a lot of mistakes in his life, but for some reason, leaving Harry with questions and whispers of ‘ _iloveyou’_ s on his tongue had felt like the worst of it. 

Maybe Louis _was_ in love with Harry. 

He’d considered it. A lot. 

The problem was, how was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to trust that just feeling something would mean things could work out? There were just too many examples of cruelty around him to ever believe in something so pure as Harry. Of course he was hesitant. 

And then, there was the big glaringly obvious thing that kind of blew up the whole idea anyway. 

Sex. 

Fuck, Louis had tried not to think about it. He’d been trying since those first few sessions with Terri when she hinted at knowing that his conquests had been…less than desirable. But, somehow, while trying to ignore the whole thing, Louis’ whole life had somehow started to orbit around the very concept. It was all he could think about. Even in his subconscious he wasn’t able to escape it. 

He was really and truly fucking doomed to ruin this thing with Harry…if he hadn’t already. Which he probably had. It was just…there was nothing that he could think of that he could tell Harry to describe the embarrassment he felt. There was no way he could explain to Harry that he’d spent all of his sexually active years letting people wreck him and that he’d somehow accepted that that was the only way it would ever be. He’d just given up and learned to accept the fact that he was nothing more than an outlet. A place where people could let out their rage and he’d just gotten used to it. He hadn’t ever imagined that he would have an experience like the one he’d shared with Harry. 

And it had been so good that he also hadn’t expected the fall to be so harsh and so abrupt. Was he just supposed to accept that sex was supposed to be like that? Was he just supposed to take the good and ride out the bad? That didn’t seem fair. It seemed easier to just avoid the whole thing. 

Except that Harry deserved more. He was always willing to give more and more and Louis had thought that maybe, finally, he had something of value to offer him. But, he’d been proven wrong. Harry hadn’t fixed the breaks inside of him and Louis had let him down with the most basic and important part of any relationship. 

And now he was stuck in his own personal sex hell. It was all he could think about. He hated it and he hated remembering the look on Harry’s face as he begged Louis to let himself feel the same. 

“No,” he admitted before Terri had a chance to press him further, “I am really not okay.”

Terri didn’t even make an attempt to hide her shock. For months she’d been trying to get Louis to admit _anything_ , and here he was admitting to not being okay. He was ready to admit the rest, too, because fuck pride. Pride how no baring on anything anymore because his whole fucking life was a nightmare and Terri might know how to fix it. Louis owed it to probably every person in his life (himself included) to maybe let her talk him through it. She’d basically taught him how to be a person for the past few months. He could probably trust her with this, too. 

There was a seriously violent feeling in his stomach. Of course he didn’t _want_ to talk about sex things. Of course he didn’t want to admit that he’d broken himself to fit into the mold of submissive, pathetic outlet for pain, but, he also kind of wanted to maybe, someday, be a little bit more than that. And for that to happen, he’d probably have to admit all the ways he’d fucked up. 

“What happened?” Terri’s voice was tentative, “was it Harry?”

The thing was, Louis had already broken down so many times in the past few days that he was just kind of out of energy. He didn’t think it was even possible to cry about the same damn thing so many times. He must have been at his capacity, because he didn’t shed a single tear as he deadpanned the words at her. 

“I fucked it up. I told you I’d fuck it up.”

“Hold on a minute, I think we need to back pedal,” Terri spoke smoothy, “what exactly happened and why do you think you messed up?”

Louis took one exaggeratedly long breath in and then let the words spill out of him like vomit, “I kissed Harry.”

Terri tried to school her expression, but Louis definitely saw the smile before she got it under control, “why is that bad?”

“Um,” started Louis, “remember when you asked me how I felt after I had sex with Matt? Well, I felt like that with Harry, too. I thought it was supposed to be different. Why didn’t you tell me it was still going to be the same?”

“Oh, Louis,” Terri’s voice sounded painful. Louis immediately hated it. 

“I just—“ he didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to sum up the hell he’d been trapped in for the past couple of days. “I listened to everyone else but I should have just listened to myself.”

“What did everyone else say?” Terri’s voice was still calm and collected. Louis was neither of those things. 

“Everyone said I had to go for it. That it was what he wanted but he didn’t want this. I didn’t want this.”

And that was all it took. The levies broke inside of Louis and it all came crashing back out. He could feel the blackness in his chest, spilling all over the room. He couldn’t even try to hold it together. He sobbed without any sort of grace and Terri immediately collected him in her arms. He clung to her in a way that he’d never let himself before. 

“Louis, love, we’ll sort it out, okay?” Terri’s words felt so, so fucking good because Louis needed his shit sorted. He needed to be able to take a fucking breath without it feeling like a million shards of glass slicing into the blackness in his chest. 

“I miss him,” Louis admitted softly, because he did. In the moments when he was able to think past the swirling and confusing pain, he wished Harry was there. 

“Do you think maybe he misses you, too?” Her voice was quiet and sweet. 

“Doubt it,” 

Terri pulled back and looked into his eyes. She was serious. 

“I’m going to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago,” she started, “this is the most important thing I will ever tell you: you are not the things that happened to you.”

“I am though. I chose them. I let them happen and I let them ruin my chance at something good.”

“Louis, love, no one would put the blame on you. You didn’t try to find those things, you just tried to find someone who would pay attention to you. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better. You do. You deserve someone who can be kind and patient for you, who wants to take the time to work around your past. Do you want Harry to be that person?”

Louis’ first response was just a sob, as he tried to search inside of him for words that could touch the feeling in his chest, “I don’t want Harry to work around it, though. I just want to be okay,”

“Louis,” she said softly, “we will get you there, but I’ll tell you this straight away—its not going to happen overnight. This is something you’re going to have to face for a long time, but its good that you finally seem ready to look it in the eye. I went through the same thing, you know? Its hard when people take and take from you for a long time to finally get used to the idea that someone wants to _give_ in all those same places. I know its hard to believe, but just the fact that you tried with Harry? That’s good, Louis, that’s so good. You must trust him and that might be the thing that gets you through this.”

Louis’ head hurt from the  tears that were still pouring down his face. Terri didn’t understand. Louis didn’t have any more chances left. He’d definitely burned through them all and Harry had looked him in the eye, while Louis had been dripping with shame and told him he was done. That he couldn’t try anymore and maybe that was the part that hurt the most. Maybe knowing that Harry didn’t want him—didn’t want to even _try_ to want him anymore was worse than the embarrassment he’d felt when he’d given himself and failed. 

The whole thing was a mess and it felt like Louis had taken about a million steps backward. He’d gotten so used to being okay that he’d gotten greedy. He’d tried for more and _more_ and his addiction to the good feeling that Harry left in his chest was what had ultimately sent all of his progress crashing down around him. He felt like things would never be okay again—at least not the same okay that they had been. Harrys was just a normal person and he had just expected normal things of Louis and Louis had been stupid enough for a brief moment to believe he could actually give them. 

But, no. He couldn’t. The only thing that Louis could give Harry was a used up body that didn’t even feel like his anymore. It just felt like a stranger’s. Louis didn’t have ownership over it any more than the guys he’d let use it. He’d made stupid mistakes when he was too young to realize and now, as an adult, he was paying for them. Now he couldn’t grow up and move on and find someone to be okay with. There was no ‘okay’. Terri had basically just confirmed that for him. 

There was work and effort and he’d have to face it, and hadn’t he already faced enough? When was the world going to give him a fucking break? 

He let out a sigh that he hadn’t known he’d been holding in, “I feel like I can’t even breathe,”

Terri was quiet a moment, calculating her words, “we can do this, Louis. We can make a plan. We can get you through the worst of it and things will come easier after that, but you have to face it. I know that’s not what you want to hear, I know that’s what you’ve spent so many years trying not to do, but you have to look it in the eye, Louis, and realize that you’re stronger. You’ve come all this way, you can’t back down now. You’ve fought for the people in your life and even though it doesn’t feel like it, you can keep fighting for them. I think the important part here is that you’re honest with Harry. You have to tell him what you’re going through instead of shutting him out. I’m sure he _wants_ to understand, but you have to give him the chance to.”

Louis shook his head, Harry had made his stance clear. He couldn’t keep doing it. He didn’t want the constant push-pull that was Louis’ life. He’d said it. He didn’t want to try and Louis couldn’t really blame him, could he? He just wanted a normal life, a normal boy to call his own and Louis could never be that. 

“He doesn’t want to,” he managed to keep his voice cracking on the words and silently patted himself on the back. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that that assumption matches the picture of Harry that you painted for me. I don’t think he gave up on you. I think it’s possible that he’s confused and that you hurt him, but if you tried to explain I really think he’d listen. I think after all the things you’ve been through with him it would be unfair of you to think anything less of him.”

“I can’t—“ his voiced cracked this time, betrayed just how not-together he truly was, “I can’t just explain this…thing. I can’t—I don’t even have a word for it. It’s just there, in my chest. Like it’s constricting my heart and I can’t fucking breathe and its so dark and I just—I hate it. I hate me.”

“I can explain it,” Terri’s voice held all the care in the world behind it as she carefully said her next succession of words, “I can explain it because—I know this concept feels completely foreign to you—you aren’t the first person to feel this. I know you’ve tried really hard to make our time together about anything but what you’ve been through sexually, but this is an important part about why I’m here. What happened to you—“

“What I _let_ happen.” he corrected. 

“It was sexual abuse, Louis, plain and simple. You didn’t want to get hurt, not when all of this started and you don’t want it now. Now you blame yourself because you got used to it. You think there’s something wrong with you because sometimes it wasn’t all terrible and sometimes your body reacted how a body reacts in a sexual situation. You blame yourself for finding release in something that you couldn’t control, but that’s wrong. It will probably take you a long time to realize that it is wrong—but it is. What you’re feeling, what you might feel for a long time is shame, Louis, and there’s a million textbooks written on that exact thing. You are going through exactly what every other person who experienced sex in a way that they couldn’t control has gone through. There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing to be ashamed of, but I will tell you this: The only way passed the shame is through it. You have to face it and stop letting it have the power. You have to challenge it every time it happens and remind yourself that you’re with someone safe who loves you.”

Louis swallowed past the lump in his throat. He wanted to ignore every word Terri had just said because it was all too real. It was all too close to him. “I don’t know why I even tried with Harry.”

“Because you’re in love with him. Because you wanted to feel close to him, to give him something special, a part of you that you haven’t often given out willingly. Like I told you a thousand times before, people will let you down, its just a side-effect of living. People will hurt you, some more than others and some people will pass through your life without much effect either way—but some people? Some people are going to surprise you and I think that’s the hardest part about all of this for you. You can’t accept that maybe Harry loves you in all the same ways that you love him, but it can happen. People can come into your life and give you good things and keep the bad things at bay, and even more surprisingly, sometimes those people want to stay. Sometimes they see the bad parts and stay anyway.”

 

…

 

The drive from Terri’s office to Louis’ house was a process. He broke in about 95 different ways as her words ebbed and flowed against his heart. First, the words about his sex life—her finally addressing them point-blank tore into him and then they were washed back out to sea as he replayed the parts where she had reminded him that he wasn’t the first person to feel this way. That he wasn’t wrong, that he wasn’t alone in it. Then the words when she’d reminded him of the person Harry was and the way it conflicted with the words Harry had said from his bed that morning. It was a constant tide inside of him, rising and falling, waves crashing relentlessly against him, but somehow he wasn’t faltering and he wasn’t falling in. 

There had been some things that she’d said that had been impossibly hard to hear, but there had been some hope in there, too. She’d given him a firm answer. A promise that while the “other side” felt like it was all the way across the Atlantic, it was possible to get there. It was possible to face the waves and get there. She had done it. Just that tiny inkling of hope was enough to keep him afloat against the storm raging inside of him. Terri was kind of the ultimate example of what people should aspire to be. If she had done it and ended up on the other side so pure and so untainted by her past, maybe Louis could even be half of that. Even that would be enough. 

 

But, as he should have come to expect, there were always roadblocks. There was always going to be something staring him in the face that reminded him just how sacred and solid love was not. He could remember in one of his favourite books, reading a line that hadn’t quite fully resonated with him until that moment. Before this thing with Harry, he truly had no concept of what love might be. He could only judge it based on the things he’d read—but only one of those quotes really rang true to the scene that assaulted him the moment he walked through the front door to his house: _I once knew a woman who liked to imagine Love in the guise of a sturdy dog, one that would always chase down the stick after it was thrown and return with his ears flopping around happily. Completely loyal, completely unconditional. And I laughed at her, because even I knew that love is not like that. Love is a delicate thing that needs to be cosseted and protected. Love is not robust and love is not unyielding. Love can crumble under a few harsh words, or be tossed away with a handful of careless actions. Love isn't a steadfast dog at all; love is more like a pygmy mouse lemur. Yes, that’s exactly what love is: a tiny, jittery primate with eyes that are permanently peeled open in fear._

Love was something that was complex and messy and he didn’t know why he’d even _want_ to understand it, given the examples he’d seen. On the other side of the front door to the biggest, most beautiful house in town was always a mess. This day was no different than the thousands pervious. This time, though, the illusion of perfection his mother worked so hard to uphold was going to come crashing down again. For the third time. 

Dan was standing in the doorway as one of their drivers started to load boxes and suitcases into the back of the vehicle. The second that Louis walked through the door the regret was instant. His mother was standing on the stairs, arms cross across her chest as she barked orders to the cleaners, to the driver, to the nannies. Dan was hovering close to the door, his eyes flitting over the boxes as they walked by. 

“Don’t forget the books in my study,” his mother said as a Nanny walked passed her. 

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Dan’s voice hedged a bit on hysterical. 

His mother scoffed, her eyes flicking to Louis for only a second before she looked back down on Dan, like she was sitting on a throne, “I don’t want to see any of you when you’re gone,” was all she said. 

“Please, Jay,” Dan tried again, why was he trying again? His mother was nothing if not impulsive and loyal to her decision. She didn’t change her mind. She never had. Not about anything, not as long as Louis could remember. 

Louis debated what his options were. He could just quickly back out of the door and seek solace in Marsha. He could just pretend none of it was happening and sneak through the house until he found the back staircase and peel away up the stairs until he was safely in his room. But he was kind of frozen in place, watching the whole scene play of in front of him. Dan was leaving—it was the same thing that had happened four years ago when his dad had left. His mother had stood on the staircase, watching as everyone around her panicked and packed and made sure that she purged the house thoroughly. She had made sure that she’d removed every piece of him from the house so there wasn’t a single reminder that he’d even been there. 

She’d do the same thing with Dan and Dan was a fool to fight it. His mother’s love was fleeting and contingent, and if people (read: Louis and Dan) didn’t live up to those contingencies? Well, she’d erase them. She’s pretend they’d never even been there in the first place. 

And oh, fuck, this so wasn’t the way that Louis wanted to come back into the world after the most intense therapy session he’d had to date. Bravely, he took a step forward, risking a glance at Dan. It was probably the last time that he was going to see him step-father. He didn’t really have a lot of feeling about it because at best, the most time they’d spent together had been arguing over Matt years ago. Louis had come to accept that things didn’t stick. Men didn’t stick—not for his mother anyway. She didn’t want them to. 

“Your mother is a coward. You’re so alike it’s insane,” his words were callous and they chafed against all of the open sores on Louis.

“Daniel, don’t you dare,” his mother barked from up above them. 

“Don’t I dare, what?” he challenged and Louis imagined that he was seeing red, the sadness of it all having been washed away by how calm and collected his soon-to-be-ex-wife was, “tell him how it is? He know’s he’s a coward, he probably doesn’t know about you, though,” hissed Dan, “he probably doesn’t know that you can’t let anyone get close to you. That you can’t forgive anyone for a tiny mistake. He thinks you’re high and mighty, but you’re just a coward—same as him. You both deserve each other, you know? I tried to give you a life, Jay, but you just wanted to control me. You just wanted someone would fit in nicely in family photos and make the neighbours believe you’re happy. You can’t be happy. Nothing touches you.”

And, well, if every second since he’d walked through the door hadn’t already been? Now was definitely his cue to leave. He couldn’t stand here and watch his mother and Dan fall apart and then slink back to his room to contemplate what to do about Harry. There were too many things conflicting in the world around him and he didn’t even know how to think anymore. He felt like the whole world was falling apart right along side him and how was he supposed to get a grip when the walls around him kept crumbling? 

He’d only taken one step toward the exit of the room when he heard his mother addressing him, “it’s okay, Louis, don’t leave on his account,” oh fuck, why was she dragging him into this? “you have the right to be here, so see how much of a child he is. He can’t take care of us, of this family. Don’t listen to him.”

Oh, why, oh why was he still standing there? Why did he feel obligated to wait it out now that they’d both acknowledged that he was in the room? He should have escaped because he had been in a lot of places that he did’t belong recently, but this one kind of seemed like the worst. He didn’t belong in the middle of this because it had nothing to do with him. The only stock he took in the whole thing was the fact that he was once again reminded of just how steadfast love was not. He didn’t want to make his mother’s mistakes. He didn’t want to be the same as her. He didn’t know if that meant he should avoid the concept of love completely or if he should vow to give it his all—to do a better job in all the places she’d failed in her last three marriages. 

'Conflicted' seemed to be a constant state for Louis. 

He took another step toward the exit, not daring to stay there for another second. 

“Louis?” it was his mother’s voice and he hated himself for the way he responded immediately by turning to face her, “do you want Dan to stay?”

Like it fucking mattered. Like he had a say in any of it. Like she had ever cared about his opinion. Like he’d ever been given the chance to form an opinion. Dan was as much a stranger to him and Félicité, Phoebe, Daisy, Doris and Ernest. Hell, so was his mother. They were all strangers and he didn’t get to have an opinion because she was just trying to stage a scene. She was just trying to make this all about her, a slow and steady fall that she could control. 

And didn’t Louis know about the desire to control the world that was collapsing around him? 

“No,” was all he said before high-tailing it out of the room. 

 

…

 

The whole world was just a constant barrage of assault after assault on Louis’ senses. He could never breathe, could never have moment to properly process anything around him and that day proved to be no different. The only semblance of peace that he’d had had been the moments in his car on the drive from Terri to his house. Now, though, it was just one after another. He’d barely shut his bedroom door, had just started gasping for a breath when the door peeled back open. Lottie was standing there, her face red and her eyes puffy and full of tears. Now, after all the moments that Lottie had been there for him when it had mattered the most, he had to be there for her. Had to be the big brother that she’d never needed him to be before. That he’d never known he could be before. 

Quickly, he collected her tiny frame into his arms and pressed her as close to him as he could. She clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder. 

“Is everyone going to leave?”

They were the first words out of Lottie’s mouth. They also sparked the first time that Louis was really able to process just how much Lottie had been through in the past few years. He felt terrible for not considering just how hard it must be for Lottie to get close to someone, because for her, everyone had left. Her own father had left in the exact same way and he hadn’t bothered to come back. To prove that he still cared for his girls. Dan was the same. He’d leave and doubtless he wouldn’t bother to call, to take Lottie and the girls out for lunch. It would be the same thing. It would be history repeating itself and how long would it be before there was a new Dan? Someone else pretty and young that could make the rest of the world think they were all just fine behind the doors of their giant mansion?

It wasn’t fair. Fuck how unfair it was of his mother to drag him into it. This was worse. She was hurting her other kids—the ones she was supposed to care about. Louis wished he was better at this. Wished he knew things to say that might make Lottie feel like less of a mess. 

“Hey,” he said, voice soft, his own pain somehow forgotten in the wake of hers, “it will be okay. Mum will take care of you. She always does.”

“Mum takes everything good and ruins it,” sobbed Lottie. 

“Shh,” said Louis, “I promise this will work itself out. We don’t need Dan.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because who was Louis to even pretend he was part of the ‘we’ that made up the household? Who was he to suggest that they didn’t need Dan. He had literally no clue what role Dan played to the rest of his siblings. He never knew the right thing to say. 

“I _liked_ Dan,” she protested, “ _he_ took Doris and I horseback riding. _He_ spent time with me. Mum doesn’t do that. She’s too busy. Dan was always there. Why does he want to leave?”

He didn’t want to. Louis knew that. He’d heard the words come from Dan’s mouth. He wanted to work things out, he wanted to stay, to keep their family together but his mother wanted no part of that. He couldn’t tell Lottie, that, though, could he? It was important to Louis, somehow, that Lottie be able to form her own opinions about their family members. It wasn’t his place to ruin his mother’s image. She hadn’t done anything wrong with Lottie and it would be unfair of him to pretend she had. 

“I don’t know,” he lied softly, “maybe he’ll call.”

He wouldn’t, though, not if this was to be the same as the last time. And it would be, because his mother was consistent in her unfairness. 

He held Lottie against him until her tears came to a halt. She hugged him tighter, then, speaking into his chest. “Can we do something good. Something to make this hurt less?” 

“‘Course,” Louis mumbled softly, still too focused on her pain to give his precedence.

That, of course, all flew out the window the second that her request came, shrouded completely in innocence that only a child could have. Louis couldn’t even hold the words against her. 

“Can we go see Harry?”

The blackness sunk into his chest again because he didn’t know. He hadn’t even had a chance to think about his next steps. Hadn’t even considered if this was yet another thing he was even entitled to grovel for forgiveness over. He hadn’t worked through Harry’s possible answers and he hadn’t even started to choke down his own pride. It was too fresh, too unexplored and he didn’t have a clue what he was going to do about the situation. He didn’t know if he could tell Harry the things he’d told Terri. Didn’t know if he was even in a place where he could ask for grace. He didn’t know if he could ever expect that Harry might want to work around his issues. 

He needed time to decompress and consider Terri’s words before he could even consider what he might say to Harry. 

Now was not the time to say any of those things, though. 

“Not now, Love.”

_Not never, just not now._

 

_…_

 

'Now' elapsed quickly. _Very_ quickly and even as he watched the credits to the third movie he and Lottie had watched curled up in his bed, he couldn’t deny that he knew what he wanted. 

He wanted to have the chance to explain himself. He wanted to beg Harry to listen. He wanted to set aside all semblance of pride and be honest about what he was feeling, even if it was next to impossible to describe. He wanted to corner Harry and make him listen until every single word inside of him was gone and then he wanted to just be with him. Just be in Harry’s presence, maybe if he was lucky, in Harry’s arms. He wanted to feel that safety he’d once taken for granted. Harry was safe and it was impossible to deny it. 

And, once again, he reminded himself, he and Harry weren’t his mum and Dan. They weren’t Liam and Zayn. They were Harry and Louis and they couldn’t be compared to anything else because there was nothing like them. Not in all the books he’d read in his life. He’d never read words that captured the feeling that Harry gave to him. 

And Harry loved Louis. 

He’d said it.

And Louis? Louis loved him, too. Harry had noticed it first, had been able to give a word to the feeling before Louis had learned to grasp it, but he’d known. He’d somehow felt Louis’ love through the constant pushing and pulling of the tide inside of Louis. He’d known and he’d pressed the knowledge quietly, in the dark of his childhood bedroom, against Louis’ neck, posing it not as a question but as a fact. 

They were in love, weren’t they? Maybe they had been for awhile. 

And as much as Louis believed that Love wasn’t that steadfast and loyal dog, he also believed that maybe a little bit of fear was good. Maybe he _was_ a tiny, jittery primate, trying to grasp onto something that was much bigger than him, but that didn’t have to be bad, did it? It meant that he could recognize the limitations. He could see it all for what it was and he could stay alert and aware of how much work the whole thing was. The fear might be the thing that tethered him properly to Harry. He could fight to keep it alive, to keep it from breaking because he could see just how much love needed to be coddled. He could see how simple and straightforward he and Harry weren’t, but that didn’t make it bad. It made it valuable and anything good was work. Terri had told him that time and time again. 

And she was right. She was right about all of it because Harry did want to listen. Instinctually Louis knew that.

 

And, so, Louis had rushed to tuck Lottie into her bed so that he could escape to find Harry. To grovel, to beg for the chance to explain himself. It was different this time because there was nothing between them that was veiled in mystery anymore. Harry had seen it all, and maybe it had just been in tiny pieces, but Louis felt pretty sure that it left him with no real pride to speak of. There was nothing standing in the way of his honesty, and even though Terri had said it would be a process, she’d also said there would be a point he would be okay. 

And he, really, really fucking wanted that part to happen with Harry. 

Now, he was just around the block from Starbucks and it was approaching closing time. His hands were sweating on the steering wheel as he tried to push away the nagging darkness in the back of his mind that told him Harry might not listen. He would. Louis knew that with everything inside of him. He might be mad, he might not jump straight to forgiveness, but he would listen. 

And Louis would talk. There was no trepidation surrounding that idea this time. There was nothing standing in the way now. No guise or semblance of honour left inside of him. He would talk because the only other option was losing Harry and given the choice between honesty and losing Harry completely, honesty was a shoe-in. 

 

His timing was impeccable (or fucking awful) because just as pulled into the parking lot, he saw Harry leaving the building. Only…he wasn’t alone. It only took a second glance for Louis to notice who it was that had his arm draped around Harry’s shoulder. He was chattering away, even though Louis couldn’t hear it, he felt pretty sure he was going on and on about nothing important. Because Nick talked a lot. Most of it was shit, but fuck did he talk a lot. 

This kind of put a wrench in Louis’ plan, because he hadn’t imagined he’d have to work around fucking Nick Grimshaw, but it seemed like everyone wanted a piece of Louis’ barely-there pride these days. Why not Nick, too?

Just as he started to give himself a pep-talk, reminding himself that this wasn’t about Nick. That this wasn’t a competition for Harry’s attention and that Louis could have it if he wanted, could have all of Harry if he wanted (and he wanted), Nick ruined the whole fucking thing. He grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him to a stop before Harry’s eyes even had a chance to flicker toward Louis’ car, before he had a chance to recognize that Louis was there and that he was trying. Harry stopped in front of Nick, a brief bit of confusion flitting across his face. Nick didn’t hesitate. Not for a second. Harry must have already given him enough green lights to be certain because Nick leaned in, then. His hand, going to the back of Harry’s neck and he started kissing him. He started pouring his annoying mouth all over Harry and most devastatingly of all, Harry didn’t pull back. He just let Nick kiss him. Which must have meant that he was kissing Nick, too, and Louis was reminded of a fact that he’d somehow forgotten in the last few months. 

Louis was a means-to-an-end. He was replaceable and when he hadn’t acted in accordance to what Harry had wanted, when he’d walked away as Harry handed him one last chance to explain himself, Harry had moved on. He had replaced him. It had been that simple. Sure, Harry had been willing to put in the work, but when Louis had hesitated, weighted down by his demons, Harry had realized how much easier things would be with Nick. 

And it wasn’t like Louis could argue. He lacked the confidence Nick had. He lacked in so many places that Nick didn’t and it really, really shouldn’t have come as such an awful surprise that Harry would jump at the idea of someone normal. Of course he’d replace Louis. Of course he’d read Louis’ silence as him relenting against everything that had happened between them. It really just made sense. 

But, fuck, did it slice into Louis. It left an ache in his chest that he couldn’t even attempt to ignore. 

He was in love with Harry and Harry had tried. He’d tried to be in love with Louis, too, but this was easier. Nick was easier. 

Immediately his hand went to the gear shift and he fumbled to shift into reverse. He needed to get the fuck out of there before the emotions hit, before they broke everything left inside of Louis. His fumbling must have left the car in park, because the second he hit the gas, the car did nothing but rev loudly, drawing the eyes of both boys in his headlights. Fucking, fuck. This time Louis watched his hand, Harry’s eyes heavy on him, and successfully put it in reverse, driving as fast as one could backwards. Harry started toward him then, like, even after all the shit storm Louis had caused, he was going to somehow dignify him with an explanation. Louis 100% did not want to be around for the explanation. He tried his hardest not to meet Harry’s eyes and instead kept his gaze centred on the back-up camera on his dash. 

Well. 

Louis had done it. He’d fucked up everything. He’d found Harry’s breaking point and it had no right to hurt as much as it did. 

Louis chose to interpret it as fate when, just as he looked away from the scene in front of him he heard his phone ring. He looked down at it, a number he didn’t recognize flashing across the screen. There was only one person who called him consistently from random numbers. One person who, when they were together, Louis could make sense of. One person who knew about the mess inside of Louis but somehow eclipsed it, making it seem like less of a disaster. One person who fucking made _sense_. Sense was the only thing Louis wanted in that moment. He just wanted to grip onto something that he understood. 

He pressed the phone to his ear without saying a word. 

“Can you pick me up?” Matt’s voice didn’t give a single clue about why he was finally calling for the first time in months, after Louis had left him with confessions (or were they just musings of a person more fucked up than himself?) on his tongue. Louis didn’t care, though, was the thing. Matt was easy to follow. Black and white and he was _always_ willing to give Louis chances because he was maybe the only person in the world who actually needed Louis. 

So Louis’ words came simply and without thought, “on my way.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think its important here to remember (because I know people are going to rag on Louis in the comments :P) that Louis has been broken a long time. The whole thing has very little to do with Harry and Louis can't just be okay simply for the fact that Harry wants him to be. Facing demons is a process--and Louis can't always make the right choices during this process.
> 
> So, Just, don't hate me! 
> 
> Give Louis another chance.
> 
> Instagram: Feels.like.home01
> 
> Also the quote about love I used in here is from my all-time favourite book, The Gargoyle by Andrew Davison and its the best book I've ever read. Read it.


	25. XXV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite honestly didn't think I'd have a chapter for you this week. That was until I finally sat down like two hours ago and just went into some crazy writing frenzy. 
> 
> Trigger warning for non-consent. I don't write any of the graphic parts... so.
> 
> Enjoy! Comment! Let me know what you think! 2 more chapters! AHHHH.

It was loud and crowded and music was pumping from speakers that were far too powerful for the tiny basement. Louis was standing next to Matt and taking in the whole scene before him. He felt like an alien. He couldn’t even remember how many times he’d been in the basement of that same dodgy pub in the past, but this time it felt wrong. This time he didn’t belong and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because he didn’t belong in the light either. He didn’t belong where things were good. Where things were soft pink lips that were full of encouragement and soft promises and sweet kisses. 

He didn’t really belong anywhere, and for the first time in a while he started to question if he’d missed his mark. If, when he’d tried to end it all, the universe had counted him out. Maybe he didn’t have a place anymore because he wasn’t supposed to have survived. He wasn’t supposed to be there. 

Matt sauntered off to talk to someone at the back of the bar, but Louis was frozen in the place he was in, watching the scene that played out around him. There was a girl on a makeshift stage, dancing without most of her clothes and men pawing at her like she was nothing more than a display piece. Across the scattered tables he saw remnants of thin white lines. There was a girl at one of the tables laughing loudly while blood dripped from her nose. In the back corner were a couple of junkies, curled up on the floor, barely coherent, track marks all over their arms. 

There had been many times in his life where Louis had been quite certain that these were his people. He had been so sure that he was nothing more than them. They were a collection of broken people with brutal pasts who sought out solace in the worst imaginable ways, but they’d been broken in the same ways as him. Sure, they hadn’t made the right decisions, hadn’t actually faced any of their demons, but Louis understood it. He understood the desire to let go when it felt like control was a foreign concept. They didn’t ask questions and while sometimes that was the loneliest feeling in the world, sometime Louis found comfort in it because he didn’t matter. He didn’t matter anymore than they did and if he didn’t matter, he wasn’t letting anyone down. 

He wasn't sure how long he’d been standing there, trying to remember the ways he’d once fit in before he felt Matt’s hand on his elbow. 

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Matt said calmly, leading Louis by his elbow to the back of the bar, “I need stuff,” he added as they made their way to the back of the room. 

Louis knew what that meant. ‘Stuff’ was drugs. He wasn’t an idiot. Matt wanted Louis to get him high and really, was that so much of a surprise? This was how things went. This was their dynamic and maybe Louis didn’t care. Maybe this was still better than actually facing things. He wasn’t sure, but there was a good possibility that this was always going to be the easier route. This was the one he knew how to follow and Matt would lead the way. It would be simple to fall back into it. They’d spend years at it. 

In the back corner on the bar stood a tall man with caramel skin and a thick black beard. His amber eyes looked disinterested in almost everything, but his lips pulled back into a smile when he saw Louis. Something bad dripped into his stomach. 

So. That’s where this was going. 

“This must be Louis,” purred the man.

Matt’s hand tightened on his elbow and he forced Louis closer. Obediently, Louis nodded. The man’s smile grew, but his eyes still held disinterest. 

“This is Jade, he has some of the best coke in town,” explained Matt and Louis tried to stave off the disgusting shame that was already sinking into this chest, but it was really kind of useless because the feeling was making it’s presence known regardless of Louis’ opinion. 

“Why don’t you two slip off to the toilet and then we can regroup and do a couple of lines together?” Matt was so nonchalant about the whole thing like it was normal to sell your friends for a couple of lines. 

Of course, for them it was normal. But Louis didn’t want it to be. Not anymore. He couldn’t even imagine the backlash that would come after this if things had still been so hard with Harry.  

“I have cash,” said Louis, leaning in close to Matt, “can’t we just pay him?”

Matt chuckled a little, looking over to Jade, who Louis only just noticed towered over him. He was well over 6 feet and his whole vibe was intimidating. Why was Matt doing this? He didn’t have to. Louis’ mum hadn’t cut him off, they had all the money they could ever need. 

“Louis wants to know if he can just pay you for the coke,” and _of fucking course_ Matt would throw him under the bus. 

Jade chuckled, “I’m afraid I’m less interested in cash at the moment. Your friend here has sold me on your magical mouth. ‘Friad I’d rather have a go at that.”

“I—uh,” Louis wanted to say something, anything to make this not his reality. He wanted to get the fuck away from this guy, but he was petrified. This wasn’t who he was anymore. This wasn’t the place in the world he fit. Matt was supposed to be his friend and whatever happened to all the shit he’d said that day about being able to love him? Was that all just another ploy to keep him close? Louis was trapped and it wasn’t like this was the first time. Matt had sold his skills more times than he could remember, but it had been in desperation. It had been during the times when his mother had cut him off, had taken away his access to money and they hadn’t had a choice. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

“Come on, pet,” said Jade, reaching out to stroke Louis’ arm.

This couldn’t happen. Not with everything he was already dealing with. He hadn’t even had a real chance to catch his breath over seeing Harry and Nick kissing. He hadn’t processed the shit with his mum, with Dan. He hadn’t thought over and over what Terri had said about this exact thing. It wasn’t fair. He couldn’t just run away, not with the way that Matt’s fingers were digging harshly into his elbow, a thinly veiled threat behind the gesture. Running would be stupid, Matt was reminding him. Louis was small and he couldn’t pack a punch. He could go willingly or he could go forcefully and the only rational decision he could make was to go willingly. It was the only semblance of control he could have. If he said ‘yes’, at least it could feel like a choice. 

“Okay,” his voice was small and he felt Matt’s grip on him loosen and saw the grinch-like smile that grew on Jade’s face, “but I want to do a line first.”

 

…

 

Louis knew how a bender worked, especially one fuelled by cocaine. He wasn’t surprised to find, when he finally spared a look at his phone, that it was nearly four in the morning the following day. They’d stayed in that rundown basement until most of the crowd had cleared out sometime around 7 in the morning. Louis and Matt had gotten a hotel room and at least a dozen other people had joined them for a second straight night of partying. Things were kind of messy, but the messier they were, the more easily Louis followed along. 

Of course, beneath the date and time on his phone’s screen were notifications. Text messages that he was keen to ignore. Zayn’s name was there a couple of times, one was from Lottie, but the vast majority of the list was one person: Harry. 

Nope. 

Louis was not ready to hear what a fucking idiot he was. He was not ready to read the texts that, without doubt, would try to explain what he’d seen. That would let him down as carefully as possible, because Harry was always so fucking gentile. He would quietly explain that Nick was good to him, that he knew how to give without hesitating. That he was simple and straightforward. That it didn’t minimize how much Harry cared for Louis, but rather it was just a smarter decision. He’d apologize, and Louis didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear about how he’d burned through all of his chances and how he just had to accept that this is how things would be now. 

Nope. He was definitely not reading the messages. 

But, Matt had a different plan. He typically did. As he was walking by, he noticed Louis staring down at the device in his hands. Quickly, he reached out and plucked it out of Louis’ hands. No, no, no. Fuck, no. He didn’t want Matt to read whatever it was Harry might have said. That was going to make everything so much worse. 

“My, my, Louis,” he said, scrolling through the lists of texts and unlocking the phone. Louis’ passcode was second nature to him, “you’ve got a lot of texts here, darling.”

The mortification must have been obvious in Louis’ eyes, because Matt’s lips fell into an oh-so fake pout, “oh are these private?” He laughed at his own joke and Pressed on, “aw, baby sis wants to know why you didn’t go home. Should I tell her?”

Louis shook his head. 

Matt laughed again, scrolling further, “and who’s Zayn?”

“My friend,” Louis voice held weakness. Weakness that Matt would grasp onto. He wished he was stronger. 

“Oh another friend,” Matt’s voice was full of mockery, “are you fucking him, too?” 

Louis felt his face flushing.

Matt just laughed, “or is it just your precious Harry? Is he the only one you want to fuck these days?”

Louis didn’t answer. Matt took that as his cue to continue, “and speaking of loverboy, looks like he’s been trying to get a hold of you. Maybe I should call him. Let him know Louis can’t come to the phone right now because he’s too busy doing lines with his scumbag friends,”

It was stupid and pointless, but Louis reached out and tried to grab the phone from Matt’s hands. Matt just laughed. 

“Let’s hear what Harry With The Hair has to say to his pathetic boy,” Matt pulled up the conversation, “seems like while you were busy sucking cock and doing lines Harry’s been busy worrying about you. What a shame,” Matt laughed again, “‘Louis please come back’ oh how sweet. Where did you leave him? In a hotel room in a strange city? That’s usually your MO, isn’t it?”

If there was some sort of get-out-of-this-conversation-free card Louis could have laid down at any point in his life, it would have been that moment. Matt must have saw the embarrassment and hurt on his face at his words.

“Oh, poor Louis doesn’t like it when I say how it is,” Matt snarled a bit between his words, “but here’s the thing, Louis, the thing you always forget: you aren’t a good person. Do you know how many times you’ve left me behind now? I just expect I’m going to wake up alone most of the time. You don’t have a spine and you think that you’re the victim, but you couldn’t be more wrong. You hurt people. You’re just as much of a cancer as I am, you’re just quieter about.”

Louis didn’t say anything, he just let Matt’s words wash over him. He was probably right. Louis had hurt a lot of people. Especially recently. 

“But, I’m the bad guy, aren’t I? I’m sure that’s what your therapist tells you, what your precious Harry tells you. I know it’s what your mummy tells you, too, but you know what? At least I’m there for you. At least I don’t leave. At least with me you know what to expect. I don’t make you bad, Louis, you do a bang up job of that all on your own. Not my fault you never learned the word ‘no’.”

Louis wished he was anywhere else in the world. Wished he was still riding the high from drug as, but it was getting to that point in the night where Louis was ready to settle in and hibernate for the rest of his life. He was exhausted, and sure, maybe doing another line would fix things just fine, but he kind of also wanted to relent to the exhaustion. He kind of wanted to be done. 

Matt was back to scrolling though his phone again, though. He wasn’t about to escape so easily. 

“‘Please just call me’, oh you’ve been icing out Harry, too? Here I thought I was special. Thought I was the only one on the receiving end of your ghosting,” said Matt, “‘I need to explain what you saw with me and Nick. It wasn’t what you think and I’m sorry, Lou. I didn’t mean for you to see that. I wanted to talk to you. I know I said I was done, but I’m not. I was just frustrated.’ Hmm, I wonder what has Harry dearest so worked up,” 

“Just—stop, _please_ ,” begged Louis, not wanting to deal with the mocking tone Matt was reading Harry’s words in and equally not wanting to hear Harry’s words. 

“Oh, darling, I’m just getting started. There’s about a dozen more to come,” laughed Matt, “oh, and this one might be my favourite,” there was a slight chuckle before he began reciting Harry’s words, “‘look, Lou, we need to talk. I have about a million things you need to hear and I can’t say them through text. Can’t you at least call me? Fuck, Lou, I poured out my heart for you and I know you felt it and then you just ran away. I know it’s scary, I know you expect the worst but you have to let me help. You have to give me the chance to prove the rest of the world wrong.’ How _romantic._ ”

Louis was staring at his fists, not knowing how to shut down his ability to hear. This was too much. Matt was supposed to distract him, get him lost in another world, not drag him right back into this thing with Harry. Louis needed a fucking breath. 

“‘Zayn says you talked to him. That’s good. I wish you would talk to me, too, though. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry I said sorry wasn’t enough. I know you meant it. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me and I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. It’s just a hard thing, you know? I can’t accept that it’s done just like that. I must mean more to you than that. You mean so much more to me than a stupid argument.’ Wow, Harry sure has a lot to say. Seems like things went pretty wrong between you. I bet he almost wishes somebody would have warned him,” Matt narrowed his eyes, “oh, wait. Someone did. Some fucked up scumbag junkie  you may or may not know. I distinctly remember dropping by to brief Harry on what he was stepping in to. I told him you wouldn’t get it. You still don’t get it, do you?”

Louis didn’t respond, instead he just sucked in a deep breath.

“‘I’m worried. I talked to Zayn and Lottie and they haven’t heard from you either. Please call me. I don’t even care if you don’t say anything. I just want to know you’re okay.’ How _selfless_ ,” mocked Matt, “‘and I meant what I said that night in my room. I am in love with you and I’m sorry if it wasn’t the right time to say it or the right time to feel it, but I can’t just make it go away. I was so sure you felt the same after New Years and I... I don’t want to be wrong. Please, if you just tell me I’m right we can figure it out. We can go as slow as you need, louis. Fuck Nick. There’s no one else I want and I mean that.’”

Quickly, Louis reached out and snatched the phone from Matt’s hands, anger rushing through his veins, “stop.”

This time, Matt listened. 

 

...

 

Seven days. It had been seven days since Louis had left his house with the intent to apologize to Harry, to explain himself. Seven days since he’d seen Harry and Nick kiss and seven days of living in the chaotic hurricane that was Matt. Louis had survived it, though, and so far he was pretty much unscathed. At least that’s what he told himself (and Terri both times he’d emailed to cancel his sessions). That was until his credit card was rejected while he and Matt were trying to order a pizza online. Fuck. Seven days was barely anything in comparison to the weeks he’d gone previously unnoticed by his mother. Why did she have to pick now to notice? Why was she so tuned into his life now? It didn’t make any sense. Louis was so sick of being on the radar that he wanted to puke. 

Matt snatched the phone from Louis’ hand, “the fuck is wrong with your card?” 

Fear prickled down Louis’ spine. He was only permitted to hang around for this long without any sort of punishment because he’d had money. He didn’t have many uses aside from that, he knew that. Now his mother had screwed him again. 

“She cut it off,” he mumbled. 

“What the fuck, Louis?” Matt was mad. Louis had to fix this. 

“‘S okay,” he assured Matt, “I’ve got cash. Lots. In my car.”

Matt scoffed, “well unless you hid more than the £700 I found in your glovebox, we’re fucked.”

“You found that?” Louis was incredulous. How had he forgotten so much of how this worked? Matt was relentless in his need. He was shooting hundreds into his veins a day and, really, Louis shouldn’t have been surprised at how fast he’d burned through the bit of cash he’d had stashed away. 

Fuck. 

“You better fix this, Louis or I swear to god,”

Briefly, something that Louis couldn’t quite put a name to burned in his veins. He didn’t like the tone of voice that Matt was using. Couldn’t he figure this out on his own? He’d gone on this long without Louis. He could figure it out. Anger. That’s what it was. He was mad because he didn’t belong anywhere. Just like that Bukowski poem, _this piece of me fits in nowhere._ That was Louis. No matter where he tried, he was always the wrong piece of the puzzle. He never fit, and he _hated_ it. He hated Matt and he hated the good things, too, because how dare they tempt him? How dare everything seem so good only to fall apart? If he couldn’t even have this, what was the point. Why was he still going through the motions?

“What?” The rage behind Louis’ word surprised him just as much as it surprised Matt. Matt fumbled for only a split second before he grabbed Louis by the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged. 

“I will wreck you, Tomlinson and trust me you haven’t even seen how bad things can get. You get your bitch mother to give you money because I’m sick, Louis and I need my medicine and you made the mistake of volunteering to be my source. Step up.”

 

...

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Louis’ hands prickled and were coated in a cool sweat as he walked the few steps from his car to the front door of his house. It been a week since he’d left, but it felt like a lifetime. It felt like it had been ages ago that he’d watched as his mum packed Dan’s things and listened to them fight. It had been ages since he’d held Lottie as she wept about the loss of her stepfather. 

And now, here he was. He had money in his room, yeah, but not enough. There was never enough when it came to Matt and the only way he’d make it through this was to somehow convince his mother to unlock his card. That was the only way he was going to survive Matt. His car was idling outside the front door, Matt sitting in the passenger’s seat and that was a separate fight in and of itself. He could feel that. 

First, he’d head up to his room and change, find whatever money he could and then he’d find his mother. Then, somehow he’d make her listen. He’d remind her that this was the person he was. He wasn’t the kind of person who’s name sat on the honour roll semester after semester and he wasn’t the type of person who got date kind, pretty boys from perfect families. This was the life he’d picked a long time ago and she’d just have to adjust. There was no guilt she could use to shame him here, because he’d already cycled through it all. He already knew how to numb it—how to ride out the ugly cloud of shame that was on him the second he turned his back. He’d figured it out. He’d burn and burn until he was nothing but ashes, until no one could even notice he’d been there to begin with. Oblivion was really the only thing he had to look forward to at this point. 

And at least he didn’t have to do it alone. At least he had a nihilist in his passenger’s seat that wanted to burn even more than he did. At least there was another person out there who understood that. Who knew how medicate the shame of a life that never felt like it was in his control. 

Harry could never be that. He could never understand that need. 

And Louis didn’t want him to—not really. He’d been aware from the start that Harry deserved more than that. 

He crossed the threshold of his house, walking toward the staircase. As he plowed forward, trying to summon the false sense of courage that he’d require for this task, he passed the giant mirror in the entry way. As he caught a glimpse of himself, that familiar flicker of shame lit up inside of him again. His cheeks were even more sunken in than usual, his face almost resembling a skeleton. The bags weren’t limited to just under his eyes—his entire eye socket was tinted purple. He looked like a zombie, like someone who’d lost himself a long time ago. 

Except, that wasn’t even possible because Louis had never truly known who he was. There had never been anything to lose. He’d never even had a chance to fight for himself. He was too used to defeat and he could see it in his eyes, in the bruises coating his arms, in the nasty love-bite on his collarbone. 

He looked a right fucking mess and for once, at least he wasn’t holding up appearances. At least he looked as fucked as he felt. 

He didn’t even get close to the staircase before his mother met him in the entrance. 

“Louis William, you have a lot of explaining to do,” she started, he voice uneven and hitching on the syllables. That was strange. That was out of character, “where in the fuck have you been?”

“Out,” he tried to keep his tone casual, uninterested. He tried to convey just how much he didn’t care—and he didn’t, really. At least not about himself. Some part of him was craving this. Some sick, sick thing inside of him wanted to be reminded just how shit he was. He felt like being beat into the ground and spit on just to be reminded that that piece of him fit in nowhere. That he was _not like other people_. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Louis, its been _days._ You can’t do this. Lottie is a mess. Dan left and you left and she thought you’d never come back. You can’t do that to her, she’s just a child Louis. You can’t just let her down whenever you feel like drowning yourself.”

Louis just scoffed once. He didn’t know what to say. Lottie shouldn’t care. She should be used to it. They all should be. “You blocked my card,” he accused. 

“Yes, I did because I didn’t know where you were. Who you were with. You were buying drugs, look at you! You’re a fucking mess, Louis. I thought you were better. I thought that lady at the hospital—I thought she was making you better.”

Now he wasn’t reaching. The anger he felt burning inside of him wasn’t an artifice. It was real and pulsing and how _dare_ this woman that barely knew him stand there and accuse him of failing to get better. Like it made a difference to her either way. Like she had done any of the work. Like she hadn’t been the one to break him down in the first fucking place. 

He didn’t owe her a fucking thing. He never had. _She_ owed _him._ She should be proud that he’d managed even a semblance of survival under her watch. She’d never cared—never even bothered to pretend to care until he’d done something right and _fuck that._ Fuck her and her expectations and fuck her for trying to have any credit of all the work _he_ had done with _that lady at the hospital._ She’d given him nothing but ammunition and reasons to self-destruct. 

“Shut up,” he said “just shut the fuck up. You don’t know the first thing about any of this. How dare you even pretend to think you knew who I was with. You don’t know the first fucking thing about my life.”

“Excuse me, Louis, but I know a whole lot more than the first thing. I know who you weren’t with— _Harry_. Poor kid’s been here three times this week looking for you. I saw your car pulling up on the cameras, I know who’s waiting for you in it and I thought you were passed that. I thought you were done with the drugs and the games and _him._ He’s trash, Louis. He’s always been trash from the streets and he brings you down. I’m sick of paying for your benders. I also know that you’ve been skipping your appointments because your therapist called me. She think’s you’re in trouble and I think she might be right. You’re right back on the wrong path and I don’t know what it is about you that you can’t just fucking _learn_. Can’t you see that you’re fucking up? You have everything yet you insist on burning out.”

“You don’t know shit about what I have,” Louis bit back, “you don’t know shit about me, so don’t start pretending now.”

“Oh, but I do know, Louis, because I gave it to you. I gave you everything and yet you still can’t manage to handle it with grace. You still can’t manage not to disappoint me. You are an embarrassment to this family every single day—“

“You think I don’t know that?” instead of sounding like the broken down child he’d always sounded like in the past million times they’d had this exact fight, this time he felt the meaning behind the words. Watched as they registered in his mother’s face, as they burned her skin with their sincerity. 

“Then fix it,” she ordered. 

“No. You fucking fix it,” Louis’ snarled, standing up straighter than he remembered standing in his entire life. He didn’t dare shrink against her in this moment. She’d put him here. She’s cast him aside until he’d had no other choice but to scream loud enough for her to actually see. He didn’t care then if it had been negative attention, at least she _saw_ him and not through him like she had for the majority of his life. Now, though? Now he didn’t care either way because he didn’t owe her a fucking thing and she ought to let him burn out in peace. “Unlock my card and I’ll get out of your way. I won’t embarrass you because you won’t have to fucking see me.”

“That’s not the point, Louis. The point is that you have a problem and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of wondering when the next time might be that I get a call saying you overdosed on the side of the road.”

And that was it. That was the last straw. Whatever child-like version of himself that had been housed inside of him and shrank against her words wasn’t around anymore. Now it was just blind anger because he was really sick of her pretending she had a fucking clue about anything in his life. Like she had a right to comment on a single choice he made. 

“I fucking overdosed on purpose, you _idiot_. You don’t know the first thing about me. If I’m sick, its because _you_ made me that way.”

He watched as the words he didn’t even put thought into struck his mother. Normally he calculated every word and was able to say them with rehearsed detachment, especially when it came to her—but this time? This time the words came from somewhere inside of him that he hadn’t even known was there. They singed her with the anger behind them and Louis had never known he could effect her in any way and it was liberating. 

“ _What is wrong with you?_ ”

There was only one answer and it fired out of Louis’ mouth before he could even begin to start thinking about it. 

“You!” The volume of his voice made his skin prickle with anger, he was still too mad to be afraid. He was lost in it all and sick of all the different directions he was being pulled. He couldn’t deal with his mother right now, not with the threat of Matt. There was too much and he was more than ready to snap. “I don’t owe you a fucking explanation, don’t you see? _You_ owe _me_ one and I’m never going to get that, so why don’t you just do the only decent thing you’ve done in the last 21 years and give me some fucking money so I can get on with my life.”

And then, the last thing that Louis thought would ever happen, happened. He felt the words strike home with his mother. She was silent and the light fell out of her eyes. She merely stared at him for a moment without speaking. His words had been a carefully sharpened knife, but he didn’t know how to throw it. He didn’t know how to strike her where it counted, but without even trying he’d clearly found the place. Her face was white as a sheet as she turned away from him and left the room. 

Instantly Louis felt sick. His whole body broke into a cold sweat and without her in the room it was impossible to keep up the same facade. He wasn’t brave and his anger had been fleeting, delicate and now he just felt like a monster. That ugly nagging shame started to sink into his chest and stomach and he nearly collapsed under it’s weight. He had to hold it together, though, because he couldn’t show how weak he really was. Not when he’d finally struck in a way that seemed to hurt her. He couldn’t let himself back down now. 

He was stuck in some sort of daze, the shame and guilt in his body weighing him down too much to be able to move forward. He was aware that he was supposed to get out of there. That he didn’t belong in that house—even less now because he’d upset his mother. Louis had _hurt_ her and maybe there had been a time in his life when that was all he wanted—but this wasn’t that time. He wasn’t that person anymore. 

Just as he tried to suck in a breath that might actually reach his lungs and give him enough strength to slink up to his room, his mother appeared in front of him. Her face still held the same grey-ish pallor it had just a moment ago when Louis’ words had struck, but her eyes were different now. Now he could see something he’d never seen in her before swirling in them—pain. Louis was older now and for him it was about a lot more than just being noticed for any given reason. Now he didn’t want this—this negative attention. Her silent disapproval coupled with defeat. Her lost cause of a son—that’s all she was looking at and Louis was really fucking sick of being a lost cause. 

Silently, she handed him a wad of cash, her voice was hoarse as she spoke. 

“I’m not unlocking your card. You can check in again in a few days and I’ll give you more cash, but I’m not giving you the means to overdose, Louis, I won’t do it.”

 

…

 

It was three days before Louis was finally brave enough to turn on his phone. His mother had mostly been smoke and mirrors with her threat, because the next time Matt had taken his Visa to an ATM he’d been able to take out money. Louis should have known better. They’d been through this a lot in the past, and she always caved. money was the only thing she could give to him and she’d never held back on that. 

Too bad, though, that money was the last thing in the world Louis really needed. He needed guidance. Like, fucking badly. He needed someone to tell him how to not get stuck in the ugly drugs-sex-shame-drugs cycle he was currently in. Drugs numbed his emotional pain, made him feel invincible which inevitably lead to him believing he could handle things when Matt started looking for sex. He was consistently wrong though and the sex lead to shame and the only thing that made the cloud of it lift was drugs. 

It was an awful cycle and the more he became trapped in it, the more he started to lose hope in the life he’d had just a couple of weeks ago. He didn’t see how he could get back there. He didn’t see how anyone would want him to be back there. Harry was happier—he had to be. Louis was a burden of epic proportions and as kind and careful and resilient as he was, there must have been a large part of him that was finally able to exhale in relief that Louis was no longer hanging around and bringing him down. His family? Well, they’d always made it clear that he didn’t fit in. There was no second guessing how they felt about him. They were certainly better off. And the rest of it? Terri, Zayn, well they were all just extensions of other things and their lives would go on. Terri would fill his appointment times with someone maybe a couple of shades less pathetic than him and Zayn would be fine. He would comfort Harry and move on with the rest of the world. 

But there was some part of him that wished maybe it was different. Some part of him that hoped that at least one of those people might still care. 

So he’d turned on his phone. The very last thing that he expected to see was that there were _multiple_ texts from his mother. Forget the fifteen from Harry—Louis couldn’t even _think_ about that right now. To distract himself from the rising sort of fear in his chest at the prospect of reading what his mother had taken the time out of her day to type, he pulled open his emails. As expected, there were a few from Terri. The first two were just pleas for him to call or come in for at least one of his sessions. Just gentile reminders that she was there and that he needed to make the effort to show up so they could work on the things they’d talked about. 

The third email, though, it was long. She’d sent it earlier that morning, following yet another session that she and Louis hadn’t had the previous day. It was still better to read her quiet disappointment than it would be to read whatever his mother had sent, so Louis dove in. He was alone anyway, so even if it was able to pass through his foggy emotional haze, Matt wouldn’t see. He’d be alone and free to feel whatever it was she was going to make him feel. 

 

_Louis,_

 

_As your therapist I have the right to reach out when I think that one of my patients might be in trouble. I’ve spoken with your mother on more than one occasion, and I know you probably don’t want that, but she’s your emergency contact. I had to reach out, Louis because I’m worried about you. I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind right now to make sound decisions._

_I know what we talked about the last time you were here was scary. I know you tried to keep those things from me for a long time, but I’d like to think I’m a pretty safe place for you to trust with those parts of yourself. I have watched you grow and change and come alive from that cuttingly sarcastic and closed off boy I met that first day in the hospital. I have learned so much about you and I’ve told you so much about myself. We have a really good thing going, Louis, and I know its not always easy and that we had to work really hard to get to a point where you were ready to share those things with me, but we got there. You trust me and I trust you and I think that if you just gave me another few chances we could make some progress._

_I never worried about your alleged drug addiction before, Louis because I knew that wasn’t who you were. I never worried that you’d relapse because you knew that wasn’t who you were. Now, though, I am worried because I think you might have convinced yourself otherwise. I think that you want to punish yourself because you think there’s bad inside of you but you’re wrong. The only bad things inside of you are things that other people put there and we can work through that. You are not that person, Louis. You are not the kind of person who can just drown until you forget—you’re too bright._

_I also know that there has to be a part of you who wants to be better. There had to be or you wouldn’t have come to my sessions for months without fail. You wouldn’t have found Harry and latched onto that hope if you didn’t think there was something better. If you thought you’d always be drowning you would have just tried to hurt yourself again, but you’ve never been that person. You’ve always been hopeful and even if you didn’t see that, I did. You hope you can have a better life. You hope you can have a loving relationship. You hope you can have friends and success in school and a future. You hope you can repair things with your mother and the rest of your family._

_And you can. You can have all of those things._

_Sometimes I know it feels easier to just let go and let the bad things take over, but its not. You’re just prolonging the bad. You have to face the bad, yes, but you don’t have to stay there. You don’t have to suffocate on it. We can get you through it, I promise. I know with everything in me that you can be better. I don’t doubt you for one second Louis, and part of that is going to mean that you have to reach out and trust other people and I know you never wanted that, but that’s what life is. You’ve been surrounded by the wrong people, historically and I’m sorry for that, but this isn’t then. This is now and you are brave and strong and the rest of your life is going to start with you walking through the door of my office on your next scheduled appointment. It has to happen, Louis. You have to let me help you._

 

_-Terri_

 

And it was a good thing that he was alone because as soon as he looked away from the screen, tears came pouring from his eyes. Why did Terri have to care so much? Why was she still trying? Didn’t she see that it was easier this way? It was easier for him to live this sort of fabricated life. It was just so much easier for him to pretend to be this monster. To pretend to be the kind of person who chose drugs and bad decisions over hope. It didn’t matter if it was really who he was. It didn’t matter because he’d seen it proven time and time again that even when things got better, it still wasn’t enough. Better was not protection against the bad things. Better was just…a glimmer of hope that he didn’t need. It was a fantasy and he’d seen it proven time and time again that better didn’t mean that things would be okay. Things would probably never be okay because there was some unwritten rule in the universe that Louis didn’t get the things he wanted. 

He’d been through this endless loop his entire life. Everything he’d ever wished for or gotten close to vanished. The things he wanted either didn’t come or were taken away before he even got to appreciate them. His mother had never given him a normal life, despite the things she said. How dare she try to give him things instead of just giving him _her_. That’s all he’d ever wanted. He wanted to have whatever it was that his sisters and the babies had that made her care. Then there had been his Gran, the only person who had ever seen him when he was a child and he hadn’t gotten to hold onto that either. Throughout school there had been fleeting friendships that mostly coincided with birthday parties (because rich kids gave the best gifts) and ended soon after. Then there had been Matt and Louis had most certainly thought for a good chunk of his life that he was lucky to have him. He’d been lucky that someone actually saw him as more than just a friend to buy him things. Matt had wanted him in a real, physical way that Louis hadn’t even let himself hope for. But, as with everything else in his life, the good had gone from that, too. Matt had used him as a way to support his habits and a place to take out his pain. 

Then, there had been Harry— _Harry._ God, it hurt now just to think about it. Harry had given him so much. Everything, really, Harry had given him everything and the only thing that Louis had to give in return was a used up body that didn’t even work the way it was supposed to. A body that had betrayed him in times of pain and turned them into to pleasure when it really had no right. All he had given to Harry was his diseased blackness. He’d seen it in Harry’s eyes when he’d tried to sneak out. He’d seen the brokenness that he’d put there and it matched his own, and was that really any way to love someone? That was _exactly_ the same kind of love that Matt gave to him. The sick, twisted kind that brought the other person down. Harry didn’t deserve that and the only good thing that Louis had ever done concerning him was walk away. Harry didn’t deserve to be a part of his sickness. 

Since he was kind of on a roll, anyway, flicked out of his emails and opened up his texts. He didn’t even want to look at the novel that Harry had written. He mostly just wanted Harry to give up and stop feeling guilty. It was foolish. If Nick made him happier, he should just own it. It made sense and even Louis could see that. He wanted Harry to accept that things between them had been doomed from the beginning. Louis didn’t have a clue how to give someone the world. Harry deserved more. 

First, he opened the singular text he had from Zayn. 

**_Zayn: This whole thing seems kind of stupid now, you know? Harry has done nothing but try with you and you won’t even answer a text? That’s cowardly, Louis, and I’m sorry to be the one that says the truth. Harry deserves better than that and I thought of all people you would see that. You need to at least tell him you’re finished—I’m sick of looking at his hopeful-kicked-puppy face._ **

So. Zayn was mad. Louis should have seen that coming, too. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did to read the words. He could always count on Zayn’s honestly, but this time it stung. Had Harry told him what had happened? Had Harry told all of his friends about how much Louis had failed him? About how he’d had to carry a sobbing man to the shower and scrub him clean while sat there screaming about demons that no one else could even see? Did the whole lot of his friends know just how pathetic he was?

Fuck. 

He bravely opened the next message. 

**_Lottie: You need to come home. You need to talk to me. Mum is freaking out and she’s been gone more than usual and I think sometimes that she’s looking for you…but she won’t talk to me and you won’t talk to me._ **

**_Lottie: Its been a week Louis. I don’t care how shit things are, you can come home. You don’t even have to see mum. Just…come see me. I’m scared and I’ve been texting Dan and he doesn’t know what to say. Mum does’t know what to say. No one knows what to say because they’re all scared of the worst._ **

**_Lottie: Louis, if you die…that would kill me. I just want you here. I want you to come home and tell me what happened so I can fix it._ **

Great. His sister wasn’t even like the rest of the world. She didn’t even waste time thinking he was shooting up and overdosing in back alleys. She went straight to the more obvious concept: that he wanted to kill himself. 

So be quite honest, he wasn’t there just yet. He didn’t know why he hadn’t entertained the idea yet. He supposed it made sense that with the world collapsing around him, with the fact that he’d lost his only real shot of being happy and normal, that he might have considered it. Now that he was tallying things up, the mess he was in was a lot worse than it had been that first time. There was a lot more shit hitting a lot more fans right then than there had been the day he’d swallowed those pills. 

So, why didn’t he want to die? Why didn’t he feel like that was the only real way out? The thing he was really stuck on was that fleeting moment with his mother. When she’d said more than just a whole bunch of rehearsed garbage to him. How she’d looked when he’d fired his demands at her. The way his words had finally, _finally,_ made contact with her. The way he’d finally, _finally_ made her feel something for him. 

A pretty large part of him wanted to explore that. A lot of him wanted to hurt her more to make up for all the years she’d let him be broken on her watch. A lot of him wanted to sit her down and relive what it was like to grow up with a bunch of strangers who were there when she wasn’t—to grow up with strangers that shared his DNA. He wanted to tell her about the time he’d gotten lost in Tokyo and explain the blind fear of being alone in their mansion that first Christmas she’d left him behind. He wanted to explain to her word for word why no car, no credit card, no fancy wardrobe could ever make up for the loneliness he’d learned to view as normal—because it wasn’t normal and it was all her fault. He wanted to explain to her about how Harry’s mum and kissed Gemma’s cheeks just as many times as she’d kissed Harry’s. About how her love wasn’t conditional based on what child she was speaking to. About how, even though Anne had two children of her own, she’d still managed a burning sort of sincerity when expressing her affection for Louis. About how, even though Louis was the exact same person he’d always been, Harry’s mum hadn’t cared. She hadn’t changed anything to accommodate him. She’d treated him like a person in all the ways that Louis had only dreamed his own mother would. 

Louis was sick and tired of being sick and tired and nothing was working. He’d gone head-first into things with Matt, snorted that first line with the hopes that he would forget. His problems, his loneliness, they’d just turned into ghosts that followed him no matter how high he got and there was no real way to out-run the dark, ugly demon that lived directly in his chest. It was all stupid and he saw it now. He couldn’t run away from the shame—it was a part of him. There was nowhere he could go that it wouldn’t find him. There was no safe place—not even when things had been good. Harry was supposed to be a safe place and it wasn’t fair that the demons could still get to him when he was in Harry’s arms. It wasn’t fair that they reduced him to a pathetic crying mess—a burden on someone that he cared about. Someone he loved. 

It wasn’t fair that after 20 years of never knowing that an emotion like love could exist, that Louis had found it and it still hadn’t helped. He’d found so much in Harry that he hadn’t known he could hope for but none of it mattered. None of it changed the things inside of him that were broken. Worst off was the fact that bad things didn’t erase it either. No matter how many times Matt threw him down on different hotel room beds he couldn’t stop remembering the way Harry had looked up at him while his tongue had darted out along Louis’ shaft. Nothing took away the memories and Louis was so fucking sick of being stuck.

Why had Harry even happened at all? How was that fair? If he wasn’t meant to have happiness, if his stupid body, his stupid mind weren’t ever going to be able to move away from past mistakes, why had Harry ever happened? Louis would have just accepted life as it was before him. It was all he’d ever known. The worst part of all of this was knowing that there was better out there and that he still wasn’t good enough to have it. 

He wiped stupidly at the tears falling from his eyes, flicking open the texts from his mother. It was a strange thing to see her name in his message list because she’d never—not once—texted him. He’d never texted her either. He was barely even sure how her name had even ended up on his phone. But there it was—with two messages. 

**_Mum: Your sister is worried, you need to call her._ **

Louis inhaled deeply as his eyes darted to the most recent message. It was from earlier that day. 

**_Mum: We need to talk about what you said to me._ **

Louis’ breath caught in his throat. He nearly suffocated as he read the words over and over. 

_We need to talk._

_We need to talk._

Talk. 

He couldn’t make sense of the feeling swirling in his chest. It felt dangerously close to hope, but it also felt pretty close to the stomach flu. He wasn’t sure about any of it. What was she even referring to? He’d said a lot of things to her. Had it been the moment he’d casually, _finally_ told her that he’d overdosed on purpose? Was she pretending to care now that his problem wasn’t just that he was a senseless drug addict? Was it that he’d said she owed him an explanation? 

He didn’t let himself hope for that. He couldn’t. He could hope for a lot of things and survive it, he had learned, but when it came to her? Hope was futile. The only certain thing concerning his mother was that he’d be let down. That he’d be reminded just how little he meant to her. That he was a mistake she’d made when she’d been a foolish and naive 19 year old. A mistake that she’d never forgive herself—or him—for. 

He didn’t need to be sat down and reminded of that. He lived it. He breathed it. He felt it every single time he walked through the front door and felt like an intruder in his own family. He’d _confirmed_ it when he’d found places that he did fit. Places where he didn’t have to worry about what waited on the other side of the front door. Places like Harry’s flat, Harry's mum’s house, Zayn’s dingy, cramped flat. Those were places he’d belonged. Places where he’d let his guard down, where he’d been himself without the question of it being wrong. The more places like that he’d found the more wrong he’d felt in his own home. It was a cruel reminder that he might have shared the same last name as some of his siblings, but it wasn’t his. It wasn’t the same. 

Whatever it was she wanted to talk about…well, he shouldn’t want to talk about it, too. He shouldn’t want to jump up and run straight down to Marsha and sit down with her. Whatever she had to say to him—he shouldn’t care and he knew that. It shouldn’t feel like the whole fucking world was balancing on the concept…but it did. 

And he did care. 

He cared so fucking much that he was getting out of his bed before he’d even given himself a second to consider it. He found his jumper balled up on the floor and pulled it over his head. Whatever it was he was doing here with Matt—it wasn’t working. It wasn’t helping and it wasn’t the same as it had been before. He was too aware of what else there was out there. Maybe that was a bad thing, but maybe, also, it was just time to admit defeat. Maybe it was time to talk to his mum, to see Terri. Maybe it was time to admit that this—the boy that hung out in dodgy hotels and snorted lines until sex was something that was at least a couple shades less than terrifying—wasn’t the person he was. 

Mechanically, his mind still lost in _Ishouldn’tcare Ishouldn’tcare Ishouldn’tcare,_ he started gathering up his belongings. He needed to leave. He didn’t know where Matt was and maybe it was just repeating the same script for the millionth time for him to just slip out without a word, but fuck it. Some part of Matt had to know, too, that this wasn’t who Louis was. This wasn’t what he wanted and he didn’t fit in here. He couldn’t keep trying to drown himself. He knew too well what it felt like to breathe on dry land and that had changed him. He’d never be able to settle for this sort of empty life full of holes.

His resolve, his new-found enlightenment made it the exact wrong moment for everything else to come crashing down—so naturally that’s exactly what happened. The door swung open just as Louis was staring down at the keychain in his hand. A sort of longing tugged at his chest, in all the places where the darkness wasn’t as he stared down at the word ‘ _Marsha’_ written on the foolish, cheap keychain. Harry had cared. He had cared a lot once, and stupidly Louis thought that maybe one day it could be like that again. Maybe one day when Terri had fixed him properly he could give it another try. But, before his eyes could even shoot up to see who was walking in the front door, he felt a desperate hand on his elbow, tugging him out the door wordlessly. 

“I need you to drive,” Matt said as he slammed the door behind him, dragging Louis down the hall. He didn’t even stop at the lift, he just made a beeline straight for the stairwell and very nearly made Louis trip all the way down the three flights of stairs, still too shocked to figure out what he wanted to say. _No_. That was a start, but there was still so much swirling inside of him. What difference would it make if he just drove Matt this one last time? The world wouldn’t stop. The chaos inside of him would wait, would still be there when he was able to get away. So he caved. He followed Matt to the car and got into the driver’s seat. 

“Where are we going,” Louis’ voice was so monotone that he didn’t even say it like a question. He just wanted to be anywhere else. It wasn’t worth the fight, though. It was so much easier to slink away when Matt wasn’t looking. 

“I owe some people some money. I just need you to drive, can you do that, Louis?” there was a hint of panic to Matt’s voice, but Louis wouldn’t really notice that until he looked back. Hindsight and all that.

There had been about a million points in Louis’ life where he’d felt like he’d lost control—but none of them really counted until this one. Until the moment that he looked over at Matt, his hand buried in his hoodie and saw the outline to something horrifying underneath the fabric. Nah, Louis hadn’t known loss of control until that second, that second when Matt rolled down his window and pulled the shiny metal out of his pocket. And there, right in the passenger’s seat of Marsha was a gun. A real, actual _loaded_ gun and before Louis could even form a fucking word he was cringing against the loud popping sound as Matt fired three bullets from his window. 

There was a commotion from outside of the car and Matt’s hand gripped tightly to Louis’ arm as he screamed for him to _fucking drive._ Louis’ instinct cut in, then, his foot hitting the accelerator, instantly knowing that they had to _get the fuck away._ He had to get out of there because this wasn’t him. This wasn’t them. This wasn’t what they were supposed to do. Mind-numbing self destruction, that was their approach. _That_ was all they were supposed to be. This was definitely not something Louis had signed up for. No way in hell was this something he would have ever signed up for. He should have asked questions. He should have talked Matt down—he shouldn’t have gotten into that fucking car. He shouldn’t be there. 

This was 100% something that he couldn’t save Matt from. This was something that he couldn’t forgive Matt for. This was it. This was the breaking point. He didn’t know how long he’d been driving, how many stop signs he’d blown through, but suddenly he skidded to a stop. He shoved the car into park and glared over at Matt. 

“Get out,” his voice was cutting, scathing even. He felt it. He felt the poison behind his words. He’d never been more upset in all his life. The adrenaline running through his veins was enough to make him stronger than he’d ever been before that moment. Fuck apathy—this rage? It was everything he needed to realize that he was stronger than Matt. That he was done. He was so fucking done being stuck in a spiral that he couldn’t conrol—a sprial that wasn’t his in the first place. 

“Louis—I…I can’t. They’ll find me.”

“Get the fuck out of my car.”

Matt was just staring down at the gun in his hands, like he was debating if he could use it to get the upper hand again. “I’m not getting out,”

“Take that thing and get the fuck out of my car.”

This time, Matt listened. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are the reason I'm still writing this beast. 
> 
> Love you all! 
> 
> Talk to me on Instagram if you're so inclined: feels.like.home01


	26. XXVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This is the second last chapter. I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Love you alllll!

Louis wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten home. He could barely remember driving at all, but before he knew it, he was pulling into his spot in the back lot. He gripped the wheel tightly, looking to his left. It had all happened so fast. Louis thought that if there was one thing in the entire world that he knew, it was Matt. He was supposed to know what to expect. There had never been anything like this before. One second he’d resolved to fix things in his life—with his mother—and then the next second he’d been watching in horror as Matt fired shots from his car. None of it made any fucking sense. He didn’t understand how he’d gotten there. He hadn’t even agreed. Matt hadn’t even asked. 

And now here he was. Just when he’d finally decided that he didn’t want this life, that he wanted to be more than what Matt made him. Now he didn’t know what would happen. Matt had shot at someone. Louis hadn’t even seen if he’d hit his target, the thought that he should check and see if there was someone fucking dead on the ground hadn’t even crossed his mind. His cowardice had gotten the best of him and he’d sped away, and didn’t that make him just as guilty as it made Matt? What if that person had died? There were three shots—what if that meant three people had died? What did that make Louis? 

It made him an accomplice to murder, didn’t it? 

Fuck. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so bad and what if they caught Matt? What if the people who had seen the whole thing remembered his shiny black car that was always way out of place in those neighbourhoods? It was memorable. Which made Louis memorable. How long until someone came knocking? How long until they traced the ownership and license plates to his mother and started asking questions?

How in the fuck was he supposed to fix this? It wasn’t like there was anyone he could really go to for advice. 

Slowly, he reached down to undo his seatbelt. He felt like even the air in his car was tainted. Like the second that he walked through the door to his house his family would be able to see the blood on his hands, the shame in his chest. What an awful mess he’d gotten himself into. What a cross to bare on his own. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do next. What he was supposed to think about, who he was supposed to apologize to. He felt like he owed everyone a piece of his pride. He’d broken so many things and he didn’t know how he was supposed to make them whole again. 

Carefully he climbed out of the car, half expecting police to surround his vehicle, half expecting the world to end. When neither of those things happened, he wasn’t sure what to do next. He ran a hand through his messy fringe, trying to summon the courage to walk through the front door. He had nowhere else to go. There wasn’t a choice. The only place he might even be remotely safe was this house—his mother’s house. 

Inside, though, he’d have to face so much. He didn’t know if he could hold it together. His hands were still shaking, his breath still hitching in his throat, his ears still ringing from the shots—from his anger. Overwhelmed was a feeling he’d had many times in his life, but this was something more. This was sensory overload to the maximum. Somehow, though, his feet carried him forward. 

Louis had barely made it through the front door, let alone had time to contemplate his next step before his mother appeared in the entry way. Her eyes were surrounded by dark rings and they looked barely alert. It seemed like she hadn’t slept at all. Her eyes flitted across Louis quickly, calculating the damage and when she didn’t see anything on the outside, her shoulders relaxed visibly. She hovered there just a few feet from Louis and Louis couldn’t quite be sure, but it felt like now she was assessing the other damage—trying to see something in him that she’d never bothered to look for before. She was trying to find the cracks, trying to see where he’d been wounded. He didn’t understand it, but he was too shaken up to really say much. He still didn’t know what he was going to do. Didn’t know how he was supposed to act after being a witness to one of the most horrific things he could have ever imagined. He didn’t know and fuck he could have used someone to tell him. 

He wanted to walk away. He wanted to slink up to his room and sleep until the next decade had passed. He didn’t want to deal with anything just yet. It was too fresh and he still felt mostly paralyzed, aware that he was moving, but his limbs felt like phantoms. 

He certainly didn’t have the emotional means to deal with his mother, but it seemed that he didn’t really have much of a choice when it came to that. 

“You came back,” it was all she said. She didn’t have the words any more than he did—there was a kind of comfort to that fact, in knowing that there were still some ways that they were alike. 

Louis didn’t think he would find his voice any time soon, so he just nodded. 

“I…” her paused and sucked in a deep breath, “are you going to stay this time?”

Okay, what? The tone in her voice made it seem like she _hoped_ he might stay. Like that was what she wanted. It couldn’t be possible, could it? Why was everything different now? Why was she asking him that question? He didn’t know the answer. Was he going to stay? Was there a reason that he should? Would staying make anything better?

“Do you want me to?” his voice was scratchy and he felt vaguely aware that at some point he must have been screaming, he must have done some damage to his throat, but the whole thing felt like a clouded memory that he was looking at from underwater. None of it was clear. 

She nodded once. Just once, but that was enough, wasn’t it? He’d been gone awhile, but he’d been gone longer so many times before and she’d never asked him if he was going to stay. She’d never even gave him a second glance. This time, though, she wasn’t taking her eyes off of him. 

There were so many parts of him that wanted to break down. He felt something he’d never felt in all the years they’d been in that house, but he couldn’t really put a word to it. There was a sort of relief flowing through him, making him relax as he stared at the woman who had brought him into the world. It had never, ever been like this. She’d never given this much to him and there was a part of him that didn’t trust it. That assumed that this was all an act and that the second he showed signs of being okay that she would detach again. There was an even larger part of him, too, that knew that he shouldn’t care. That he shouldn’t feel so comforted by her attention and that this whole thing was probably doomed in all the ways that all the other good things had been. The largest part of him, though? the largest part was the part that wanted to believe it, that wanted to fill her up with all the details of all the bad things and demand that she make it okay. That’s what mothers did, wasn’t it? They took the bad things and they held them back and made things feel okay. Louis wanted that. So. Fucking. Bad. 

“Have you thought about it again?” her voice was unsure in a way that he’d never heard before. She didn’t know how to speak to him—didn’t know who her son was at all really, but she was trying. She was testing the waters and her words meant so much more than her years of silence had. He’d be willing to erase the past 20 years if she promised to keep trying like this. He didn’t even know what she was talking about, but it didn’t matter because he could feel her trying and that was everything he ever wanted. 

“Thought about what?”

“Hurting yourself,” her words were straight to the point. He couldn’t lie. There was no point because this wasn’t like before. 

“I have, sometimes. Not lately.”

She let out the air in her lungs, “I don’t know what you think…but I don’t want that. I don’t want you gone, Louis, I’ve never wanted that. I want you to take care of yourself.”

The words slipped out before he had a chance to overthink them, “why didn’t you take care of me? Why did it always have to be me? I was a kid, you know? I didn’t know how to take care of myself. You didn’t even teach me.”

Dammit. The words sounded weak. He didn’t want to show his weakness, he didn’t know if he could. He didn’t know how she would receive it. What if this wasn’t a safe place to let out those feelings? He didn’t have the strength to pretend in that moment, he was too broken down by all the other shit happening around him. He didn’t know how to hold it together, even though he should have known for her. 

Somehow, he’d rendered her speechless, because she wasn’t answering. He’d said his piece and she didn’t have a response planned. She didn’t have a clue what to do with his words, and he should have known that. She’d never known how to take care of him, they were strangers after all. 

“I did my best, you know?” her words came softly, “I saw so much of me in you and I just had this need to protect you because I always knew the very worst thing that could ever happen was for you to be like me.”

Louis felt his lip quiver—but no, he wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to let himself. 

“I tried to let you figure it out. I tried to let other people do my job for me and it didn’t work. You’re even more broken than I am,” she looked like she was about to shatter into a million pieces. Louis had never seen his mother show this kind of weakness. She wasn’t made of stone—she was made of glass and it had taken a long time, but Louis had found her weak point and now she was breaking apart right there in front of him and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know if he should feel bad or if he should be glad that he’d finally, finally gotten through. Now he had the upper hand, now she had shown her belly instead of her back and Louis was lost, trying to grip onto anything that made sense. “I’m sorry, Louis if my trying to help you only made it worse.”

_It was so bad._

The words were on the tip of his tongue. He wanted her to know _._ Wanted her to feel the pain of knowing he was a stain on her perfect family. He wanted her to know how it felt to be a stranger to the people that shared his DNA _._ The problem was that there was really no way to describe what it had been like. There was no way to simply tell her how her failures had affected him because he couldn’t draw a single line. He didn’t know who he might be if he’d had her in his life. He didn’t know what parts of him were defences and reactions to her coolness, he wasn’t even sure he’d unburied all of the parts of himself that he’d never been able to explore in his youth. It was mostly impossible to know what parts of him were just forged in his brokenness _._

With Harry, there had been glimpses _._ He’d seen parts of himself that he hadn’t expected. Without the constant fear that he might leave, and without the embarrassment of never really fitting in, Harry had been able to show Louis a million things about himself. He’d taught him how to trust, how to laugh, how to feel without thinking about it first. How to be himself without apology.

And then, Louis had broken it.

And now his mother was standing in front of him suggesting that maybe she’d cared all along? It didn’t make any sense, and even if it was the truth and they were words that Louis could trust and believe, he shouldn’t, should he? It didn’t take away all of the mistakes she’d made. It didn’t actually change anything that had already happened. It didn’t fix him. It didn’t fix  _them_. It didn’t suddenly mean they could be like Harry and Anne _._ It didn’t erase anything and maybe that was the part that hurt the worst. More than anything Louis just wanted her, wanted to know that it was okay to want that. That he could trust her with his affection.

But he didn’t know because it could change at any moment. He couldn’t trust her to stay like this no matter how badly he wanted to.

 _“_ I’m tired,” was what he said instead. It was the truth. He still couldn’t stop the ringing in his ears from the gunshots. He couldn’t possibly deal with this, too.

She nodded once, not looking away from him. “You rest,” her voice was still soft, like she thought he was too fragile to speak to normally, “and we can talk more later.”

 

...

 

Louis bounced his leg up and down relentlessly, much to the dismay of the middle aged woman who kept glaring at him _._ He couldn’t spare that a second thought, though, because he was sitting in the waiting room outside of Terri’s office and for the first time ever he was actually nervous about that. His session (which he hadn’t cancelled yet _)_ wasn’t until tomorrow, but he’d pleaded with the lady at the front desk to at least ask if he could have one minute of her time and she’d finally agreed to talk to Terri _._

That was a full six minutes ago. Now he was just uselessly sitting in the waiting room, hoping she might say yes but also preparing himself in case she said no. That wasn’t a tactic Louis had used in awhile. He’d mostly stopped preparing for the worst and it was a welcomed change for the most part, but now he’d reverted back to it. He’d reverted back to not trusting that anything good might happen.

“Louis?” The voice came from somewhere behind him and warmth rushed through him.

He turned around and faced Terri’s soft blue eyes _._ She looked about as surprised as he felt. He needed her, and there she was. The pinnacle of strength, just as happy to see him as he was to see her. It was a bloody miracle that she had any more hope left for him.

“Do you have a minute?” He asked, getting to his feet.

“I have an hour,” was her response and he instantly followed her to her office. The second she closed the door the words came spilling from him.

“I really don’t want to drown,” he felt his hands shaking as he spoke, “thank you for telling me I still have a choice.”

“I don’t believe there is such a thing as too late, not when you’re making a step in the right direction.”

Louis inhaled and nodded. He didn’t know where to start. He wasn’t really sure what was the thing that was making him the craziest at the moment. Was it that things with Harry were so bad? Was it that he’d just pushed away Zayn like he hadn’t valued their friendship at all? Was it that he’d let his sister down? Was it that things between he and his mum had changed so much that he didn’t even really know what was going on anymore? Or, and he was leaning toward this one, was it that his supposed best mate had pulled out a gun and shot at someone from his passenger seat? There was a lot going on and Louis didn’t even know what parts of it he should tell Terri. 

“So, let’s start with this,” said Terri softly, “why haven’t you been coming to see me?”

Louis flopped into one of the chairs and shut his eyes while he tried to think of a good reason. There wasn’t really one, though. He was weak and he’d chosen self destruction over actually dealing with things. He’s decided that it would be easier to just let the world around him explode instead of stepping up and actually helping himself. Instead of _saving_ himself, like Terri had told him only he could do. He was no good to the rest of the world or the people around him if he didn’t at least try to be better. He saw that now, and even though Terri didn’t believe in ‘too late’, he did. He’d seen it in action. The only thing he really, honestly wanted to salvage of all the things he’d fucked up was his relationship with Harry and that was the thing he was too late for. He couldn’t undo the things he’d done and he couldn’t take away the hurt he’d caused Harry and that was probably the hardest thing to accept about this whole mess. 

“Things got really bad with Harry and my mum and I didn’t feel like I could fix it. It felt easier just to let go and get lost in the life I used to have—but I didn’t fit it anymore.”

“Good,” said Terri.

“Good? Its good that I just let go?”

“No, its good that you realized you don’t fit. It means you can see what I can see—you aren’t the same person. Tell me about that. Tell me about how you realized that.”

“I went home, like in between things and I saw my mum and she started going off on me like she always has and I didn’t walk away. I…I yelled at her and I didn’t think about it. It just happened and she seemed upset and I didn’t understand it.”

Terri paused a moment before she phrased the next words to him. “I think that it’s time I mentioned something serious to you,” and Louis didn’t like the turn that this was taking, he just wanted her to fix things. He didn’t want her to be heavy and serious like this, he needed her advice but he could sense the trepidation behind her words, “I don’t want you to expect things that might not be possible. I want to prepare you for reality.”

“What reality?”

“The reality where you might not get the answers or the closure you’re looking for.”

Louis huffed but didn’t say a word. 

“And I’m sorry it has to be like this, and believe me when I say I’d love to be proven wrong, but I still have to say it.”

“So say it.”

“Do you realize how strong of a person you are? You might have had lapses in judgment along the way, but everyone goes through that. I truly believe that you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever gotten to meet. You grew into a brilliant person without anyone’s help, even if you couldn’t see it. Even that first day I met you I knew there was so much more to find inside of you and that we just had to dig for it, and we did and Harry did and the person I’m talking to today is confident and brave and funny and bright. You did that Louis. Yeah, you might have had some people help you along, guide you towards finding those things, but they were already there. They were who you are and it doesn’t matter now that no one saw that for a long time, because _you_ see it now. _You_ know who you are.”

“But?” There had to be a but, he could feel it. 

“I know one of the things that you want most in the world is a resolution with your mother. I know that, I see that, I’ve felt that from the first time we spoke about her. I know that’s something that is important to you, but there is a chance that you might not get what you want from that. There’s a chance that there isn’t answer in the world that she could give you that would be enough to make up for how she treated you. There’s a chance, too, that she might not ever even try to give you a reason. I’m not saying that means that things can’t get better, but it’s not going to change the past. I think you need to be prepared for that realization. You can’t un-live the things you lived, but you can choose to look at it differently. You can choose to get to know her now as two adults, but she may never be like a mum to you.”

“I think she’s trying,” Louis felt like her was arguing, like he was standing up for his mother even though this was the person in the world he was supposed to be the most transparent with. 

“You’ve spoken then, since your fight?”

Louis nodded, “I told her the truth, about the day when I took the pills. She knows it wasn't an accident. She told me she didn’t want that, that she never wanted me gone.”

“Did you ask her what she did want?”

“She said…I was too much like her. She said she wanted to protect me so I wasn’t the same as her.”

Terri nodded, “and what have you been doing with that information?”

Louis buried his face in his hands because the answer was stupid. The answer was the same as it always was and he didn’t see it, whatever it was she did. He didn’t see that he was strong because he just kept shrinking back from everything that made him feel too much. Harry, his mum, this stuff with Matt—he’d been hiding from it all as though hibernation was an option, like he could just sleep through the apocalypse and wake up once things were okay again. 

He couldn’t though, and he really needed to stop trying. 

“I haven’t talked to her, if that’s what you mean…I don’t understand it. I don’t know what she wants from me. I don’t know what I canask her.”

“You’re an adult, Louis. You can ask her whatever you want to know. She might not be able to answer it all or she might not want to, but you are allowed to ask.”

He took a deep breath through his nose, “yeah…maybe I will.”

Terri put a gentle hand on his knee, “that’s not what you want to talk about right now, though, is it? That’s not why you came here a day early. There’s something more going on, isn’t there?”

Well. Its not like he could tell her the truth. Its not like he could tell her that the whole world had exploded and that he was an accomplice to something horrific. 

Louis nodded but he didn’t say a word. 

Of course she couldn’t have possibly guessed what had happened in Louis’ car the previous day, so she hit the next most logical nail on the head. “Have you had a chance to talk to Harry?”

Shamefully, Louis shook his head back and forth, “I can’t—I mean, I think I want to, but I know I can’t. Why would he even want to listen to me?”

“Why do you think you can’t?”

“Harry’s a good person, but like, doesn’t everyone have a limit? I haven’t even told you about all the times I’ve fucked up with him. There’s no way that he’d want to hear anything I have to say at this point…and I saw him with someone else. He saw me see him and I just kind of feel like I missed my last shot.”

Terri looked heart broken for him and fuck he hated that. He hated sitting there in her quiet office being so needy and broken and slicing right into parts of himself just so he could dump it all out there onto her desk and ask her to sort it out, to tell him what to do with his mess. But the thing about mess was that there wasn’t really any sense to it. There was no way to make Louis’ life look neat and tidy, and really he shouldn’t expect that she could. It was his mess and it had nothing to do with her that he was shit at cleaning it up. 

“So you didn’t explain to him what happened?”

“No,” Louis’ voice broke on the word, trapped in the memory of Harry scrubbing his hair in the shower while he wailed like a 2 year old, “I can’t—I wouldn’t know how. It’s embarrassing, you know?” and it was. He could feel his face flushing just at the mention. 

“Are you embarrassed now?”

Louis nodded.

“So…what’s the difference? If you’re already embarrassed, why wouldn’t you just try to explain it to him? Its kind of one of those nothing to lose situations because you already feel it. The only thing that can happen is that maybe he might understand. Maybe you can tell him about the bad things, embarrassment or not, and then see what happens after. Besides that, even though the shame happened with Harry there, you do know it had nothing to do with him, right? Harry made you feel safe and that made you want to give him more, but _he_ didn’t make you feel ashamed. He was just there and there’s a pretty good possibility that by not explaining the truth to him you’re letting him operate under the assumption that it was his fault, that he did something wrong that hurt you. By not answering him and not at least telling him you need space to figure it out you’re letting it fester with him and that isn’t fair.”

Shit. Louis hadn’t explored that angle. That was so incredibly wrong of him, though, and he saw that now. He’d let himself get lost in the idea of drowning, and he’d made Harry suffer because of it. Even if he couldn’t ask for more of Harry because there was Nick, now, it didn’t erase what they’d been before Louis had fucked it all up. Harry was still the person who made it feel okay to share his secrets. He was still the person who had listened when it felt like no one else would. He still _knew_ Louis, knew him inside and out and even though Louis had fucked up, he hadn’t stopped trying. Louis didn’t deserve his patience. 

“When I wasn’t coming here…when I was with Matt, he was texting me and I just kept my phone off because I didn’t want to hear it. The last time we talked you almost had me convinced that I might still have a shot with him, that maybe if I just said something, anything to him that he’d listen and we could be okay. So I went to his work and I saw him kissing this guy Nick and I just wasn’t prepared for how much that would hurt. I wanted to share all those stupid things I’d done and explain to him why I’d been so…fucked up after we, um, fooled around and there he was kissing someone else. I knew from the first day he smiled at me in lab and wasn’t upset that I was his partner that I didn’t deserve him and that I was just biding time until he realized that…but he kept not realizing it and I was so close to sharing all of that with him and then he kissed Nick and I know you think its a nothing to lose situation, but it’s not. Harry is everything to me, literally _everything._ I have never considered talking to anybody about anything but I did that with him and all it took was a couple of days before he ran off with Nick. You don’t get it, he doesn’t get it. No one gets it. I don’t put myself out there—I never have because I know what to expect and that’s exactly what happened. He didn’t care as much as I did.”

“Louis, love,” Terri said softly, “I know its easy to get lost in what you think might have happened…but do you think maybe he misunderstood and you misunderstood  him and you are both just stuck in the same place? Maybe he owes you an explanation just as much as you owe one to him? After everything that’s already happened do you really not think you could just hear him out?”

“I haven't even read his texts.”

“You probably should.”

“I might have…if it weren’t for Nick. I don’t think we want the same thing anymore and I don’t particularly want to deal with that.”

“But its also not fair of you to just ignore him. He probably just wants to know you’re okay. When was the last time he texted?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been looking, I just don’t want to hear him say he’s done.”

“I don’t want to enable you to make the wrong decision because you think its easier,” she began, “I want you to read what he has to say, but if you want, I can look first.”

Instantly, Louis’ hand went to his pocket, sliding out his phone. He unlocked it quickly, opening up his texts. The words had just barely left her mouth before he was pressing his phone into her hand. 

Her smile was playful as she looked down at the screen. She scrolled up, probably reading most of the older ones that Matt had openly mocked to him previously. It took a minute,  but eventually she lowered the phone and placed it back into his hand. Her smile was less playful this time, more kind and encouraging. 

“I told you I don’t believe in too late if it’s the right decision,” she started, “and it seems to me that Harry doesn’t think you’re too late either. The last text was a couple of hours ago,” she put her hand back on his knee, “you’ve found someone that cares about you a great deal, Louis and everyone makes mistakes, but you can’t keep making this one. He wants to be there for you and you have to stop expecting the worst. You have to stop expecting that he’s going to treat you the way other people have. You can’t just push him away because its easier. That’s not fair to him and its not fair to you. Open up, Louis, its not too late to fix things.” 

“What if you’re wrong? What if I talk to him and it makes everything worse?”

Terri sighed, “I am your therapist, Louis. Do you think I would tell you something that I thought was going to set you back in any way? I’m telling you because I can obviously tell you’ve had a rough few weeks. I spoke with your mother and I know you haven’t shown up to a single class since the semester started and I also know that you were with Matt which means you’ve been repressing more bad things. I know that there is a lot going on with you right now, a lot that you can’t possibly tell me in 2 hours a week which I why I know you need Harry. You’re not going to do this by yourself, Louis. I’m telling you with all the experience I have that you feeling better about all of the chaos around you and inside of you is going to start with you having a conversation with Harry. Its going to start with you being honest with him and yourself about your feelings. Love isn’t something that you’re supposed to keep tucked away, Louis. You need to tell him where you stand. You need to ask him for whatever it is you want, and if what you want is for him to be your friend first and be patient while we work through the rest, then _tell him that._ You’re never going to get the answer you want if you don’t even ask the question.”

 

…

 

Louis rested his forehead on the steering wheel, trying to work through the chaos in his mind. It was pretty obvious what he needed to do. It was pretty obvious that he needed to start being honest with the people around him about what he was going through. Maybe he couldn’t tell Terri everything, but maybe he could tell Harry. Maybe Harry could make it okay, and maybe, just maybe, he still wanted to. Maybe Terri was right about there not being such a thing too late. Louis’ feelings hadn’t gone anywhere, if anything they’d just blossomed into something bigger and something that was impossible to ignore. Harry had said it. He’d tossed the word around a few times, even directed it at Louis, but Louis hadn’t said it. 

He loved Harry. He loved Harry more than he could have ever imagined loving anything—he’d loved Harry even though he hadn’t even known what love was. It had happened without him trying, without his permission and it had grown into something that frankly, was quite beautiful. Maybe being in love wasn’t the simplest most straightforward thing in the world, but…maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he wanted it anyway. 

As he thought back to yesterday and to the sound of the gunshots he realized that he needed to get some of this off of his chest. He needed to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do about Matt and maybe he needed Harry to tell him. Maybe Harry would still be willing to listen. Terri seemed pretty confident in that assumption and…if he was looking at the facts? Well, if he would have just listened to her during his last session and actually talked to Harry? He could have avoided his whole flirtation with drowning in the first place. He wouldn’t have gone to Matt and he wouldn’t have gotten into this type of trouble. Terri was right and she’d been right about everything else and Louis was wrong and he’d been wrong about everything else. It was really high time that he started challenging what his instincts told him because they clearly couldn’t be trusted. His whole life had been built out of fear and it was pretty obvious that the only good things he had had come around when he’d finally challenged that fear. He needed to stop being a coward. 

He needed to talk to Harry, to actually dignify him with a response after he’d tried and tried and tried and refused to believe that Louis was a lost cause.

Slowly he lifted his head off of the steering wheel and looked down at his phone. 4% battery probably wasn’t going to be enough for the novel he had to write to explain himself to Harry. He didn’t know how he was going to word it. He didn’t know how to explain to Harry that the night they’d shared had him both on top of the world and then buried directly into his own personal hell. Harry already knew so much, but was he going to look at Louis differently when he learned that Louis had given his body to the wrong people for the worst reasons? Was he ever going to see Louis the same as he had? The thing Louis had always had to remind himself about Harry was that Harry had never allotted him a different set of expectations. He’d only ever treated Louis like a normal person, separate from his past and his reputations, but if he told him the truth? If he told him all the truths that would keep them away from just being a normal couple, would that still stand? Would Harry now see him as a project, as work and as something that he needed to fix? Louis didn’t want that. He wanted it to be how it had been. 

It was hard for him to trying to think of the right words to say to make up for all the mistakes he’d made in the past week. It was hard after being silent for so long to attempt to fill all of the empty spaces between them with words that would explain why he thought he didn’t have another option. It was all hard and it wasn’t that Harry wasn’t worth it…it was just that Louis didn’t want things to change. He didn’t want Harry to coddle him and treat him delicately. He just wanted everything to be the way it was before he’d fucked it all up. 

But, he supposed, he could just say that. He could ask for that. 

_You’re never going to get the answer you want if you don’t ask the question._

So he had to ask the question. Even if it seemed like the last thing in the world anyone would want to say yes to. Louis had to ask it. He had to ask Harry to be his—to really be his in a way that Louis had never imagined he’d want or need. He had to ask. 

He wasn’t really sure that texting Harry was the best approach…but at least it would open the lines of communication again. At least he could break his silence and show Harry that he still cared, that he didn’t want to drown and that he was more than that. He needed to prove that he was more than the things that the rest of the world thought about him—he needed to prove that he could still be the person that Harry saw, even if that came with some serious limitations. 

Quickly, Louis reached across to his glovebox for his phone cord, trying to think of what to open with. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew it would need to be a lot. He had a lot of things to apologize for and he could only hope that Terri was right in her assumption that Harry would listen. 

As soon as he opened the glove compartment his eyes fell on something that most definitely _was not_ there yesterday. Something that should never have been in his car in the first place and holy fuck. Even after everything Matt was still trying to fuck with Louis’ life. 

There, sitting on top of the manual was the shiny gun that Louis had seen in action just yesterday. Matt had somehow found his car, broken in and planted the gun right there in Louis’ glovebox. He was trying to get Louis to take the heat for him for maybe the millionth time in their history together, but this was too much. Louis didn’t deserve to take the fall for this, too. He hadn’t done anything. Panic dripped into his stomach as he thought about how long he had. How long was it going to be before someone came looking for the gun? Moreover, what was the damage? Louis hadn’t even looked into that. Was someone going to be looking for it? Was it a murder weapon? Louis didn’t have an answer because he’d been a coward. He didn’t even know what had happened and maybe that was the scariest part of all. 

He most certainly couldn’t handle this on his own. 

He slammed the compartment shut and switched on his car, driving to the only place that he could think of that made any damn sense. 

 

Louis’ hand shook as he reached out and knocked on the door in front of him. Realistically, he knew he didn’t really have a right to be there. He hadn’t explained himself whatsoever and now he was about to ask for way too big of a favour. He had no right to ask for advice on something like this when he hadn’t even been decent enough to answer a _text_ , but there he was. 

The door opened quickly and he was face-to-face with a not so impressed Niall. He tried to rack his brain for something to say, but he was coming up with nothing. There was nothing but fear as he looked into Niall’s blue eyes. Niall’s expression reiterated that he had no right to ask anything of Harry, that he was in the wrong by even showing up and pretending like he had his shit together. 

“Louis?” 

He heard Harry’s cautious voice, like he couldn’t believe that he was actually looking at Louis in his doorway. Niall stepped to the side, but Louis made no move to enter the room. He didn’t deserve to be invited in. 

“What are you doing here?”

Niall had started to retread back into the flat, but Louis was kind of at the end of his rope anyway. He probably would have said the words even if Niall had still been watching. “I need you,” he chewed on his bottom lip before forcing out more words around the lump in his throat, “and I know I can’t really ask you for anything…that I don’t deserve that, but I need you.” 

Harry crossed the room in a few large strides and immediately scooped Louis’ hand into his, “oh, Lou,” he squeezed Louis’ hand tightly, “of course you can ask. Of course you can need me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all and your comments.


	27. XXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading along this far, its been a journey getting here and typing the words 'The End' is always the most heart-wrenching part of finishing something....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song inspiration for this chapter... well there were a million songs for the whole story, but in particular:
> 
> To A Friend by Alexisonfire... this song in particular is like a really good back and forth between Louis' panicked thoughts (panic holds me like a gun, firm and steadfast, bleak and cold) and Harry's want for him to be better (You shouldn't have to fight alone, it's nobody's battle but your own)
> 
> What Now by Rihanna (because literally the words are: I found the one, he changed my life; or was it me that changed and he just happened to come at the right time?)
> 
> Also, Matt's song is One More Light by Linkin Park

“Nobody died.”

They were the first words that Harry had said in at least 10 minutes. Louis had been sitting on the edge of his bed fighting against the raging nausea in his stomach since Harry began his frantic google search. Somehow, against his very nature, the second that Harry had closed the door to his bedroom Louis had spilled every single detail about what had happened with Matt. He didn’t know why he felt compelled, but he was aware that whatever chance he had left with Harry was probably hinging on by a thread. There was no more room for error and there was no more room for the illusion of pride, because he needed Harry and he at least owed it to Harry to be honest. 

Of course, that honesty had come with a pretty fucking huge risk. Maybe a person who didn’t know Louis as well as Harry did would have balked at the story. Maybe someone who felt a little less confident in Louis’ honesty would have assumed that he’d been involved. That had never been an issue with Harry, though. Harry had never made assumptions based on the things he heard about Louis. Harry hadn’t even hesitated on the possibility that some of this might have been Louis’ fault, that Louis was being less than honest. Harry was a fucking saint. He was calm and rational where Louis was scared and panicked, and said the first thing that had to happen was that they had to find out what damage was done.

Harry had skimmed nearly every article online that might have related to it and the very best words that were out of his mouth were the ones he had just said. _Nobody died._ Louis wasn’t an accomplice to murder and he didn’t currently have a murder weapon stashed in his glovebox and that was definitely the second best news of the day. 

The best news though? Well, that would have been the fact that Terri was right. Louis somehow hadn’t used up his last chance and Harry had still let him into his house. Had still listened to every mistake he made since Matt had marched into the hotel room and dragged him out to his car.

Of course, needing Harry’s help was only part of it. Louis couldn’t ignore that. He couldn’t ignore that there were a million more things that he owed to Harry.

“I think what we should do is go to the police. You didn’t actually do anything, Louis, and if you tell them who did…they’re not going to go after you. I know you probably don’t want to turn in Matt, but he did something really wrong—what if he _had_ killed someone and then stuck a gun in your car? He doesn’t care what happens to you, Lou and I’m sorry to say it but you shouldn’t care what happens to him. He’ll be better off…he can get the help he needs.”

Harry was saying a lot of things that were extremely valuable. Things that Louis probably really needed to hear but he couldn’t hear them because there was something nagging at the back of his mind. It was throbbing like blood beneath a bruise and he couldn’t pay attention to what Harry was saying because it was just pulsing against him, wearing away at him like the ocean at the shoreline. He had to get it out, put it out there in the world so that it would stop eating away at him. 

But that would take courage. 

Courage wasn’t typically something that Louis had. His defining traits were typically cowardice, defeat, brokenness—but Terri had called him brave, and maybe that meant he could be. 

Before Harry got another rational word out, Louis forced the words out of his chest. 

“I should tell you something.”

Harry turned around, looking away from his computer and faced Louis who was sitting cross-legged in the middle of Harry’s bed, trying to hold himself together. 

Harry must have known. He must have had some idea of what Louis was about to say because his eyes locked onto Louis and he pressed his lips together—like what he’d been talking about no longer mattered because all he cared about was whatever Louis was about to say. 

“Tell me what?”

There was only a half a second of hesitation—just a brief consideration that Louis could just bite down on his tongue and keep it to himself—but he challenged it. He pushed past it quickly and the words fell from his lips without much purpose or expectation. He didn’t get to have expectations—not anymore. He’d already ruined enough things, his only option now was transparency. He had to sit there and lay out everything bad he’d ever done for Harry and ask him to care anyway. Harry couldn’t give him the answer he wanted if he didn’t at least at the question. 

“I love you.”

Louis saw the second that the words struck Harry and the sharp inhale of breath. And really, they were just words. They weren’t enough, Louis knew that, but if felt like he needed to get it out there. 

Harry looked like he was searching for words. Undoubtedly, he was searching for words to tell Louis that he was flattered, really, but it wasn’t the same now. Things had changed. He’d just shown up at Harry’s front door with literal blood on his hands and asked him for help after he’d given nothing for _weeks—_ for months, actually—and it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be the same for Harry, not after everything and even as Louis contemplated that fact, he still didn’t see a reason to stop. Harry deserved the truth. 

“I was a coward,” his voice was quiet, but certain in a way that the typically wasn’t, “you showed me something I didn’t understand. You showed me compassion and companionship and the rest of it? It all just happened without me deciding and I think that was the scariest part. You showed me something that no one in my life had ever shown me—not even my own mother—and it scared me. It scared me that I didn’t know if I could trust it, I didn’t know if it was going to be taken away because I don’t have the best track record in getting the things I want…” he inhaled, forcing his gaze to meet Harry’s, “I was a coward and you deserve better than that, I know, but I still had to tell you. Its the only thing I’ve thought about since that night at your mum’s when you thought I was asleep—and so, I guess you already knew, but I’m telling you now because I need to. Because you deserve to know.”

Still, Harry didn’t speak, Louis just watched as tears welled up along his waterline. 

“And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t better—that I’m _still_ not better. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you everything you needed.”

Louis watched the stream of tears as they made their way down Harry’s cheeks. He tracked the movement, because what else was he supposed to do? Harry wasn’t saying anything it was starting to feel like someone was pressing a dull butterknife into his stomach and twisting it, trying to cause the most agony possible. Yeah, that’s what it was. It was agony and Louis didn’t know what he should have expected. Did he honestly think that Harry was going to jump up from his chair and scoop him into his embrace and tell him that everything was okay? That Louis had never hurt him?

Was this how Harry must have felt that night they’d been wrapped together in his room when he’d tried to tell Louis how he felt and Louis had met him with nothing but silence? Hadn’t even dignified his words with a proper response? It was rotten and Louis wished that it was possible to sink slowly through the floorboards. 

“Talk about bad timing,” Louis said and he could feel the mournful tone to his voice. He wished he was better, stronger. He wished that he could take the sting of this rejection in stride and not get caught up in the lingering feeling of that dull knife in his stomach…but, fuck, it _hurt._ It hurt to sit there with his heart in his fist, trying to hand it to someone who didn’t know what to do with it. Sure, there had been a time when Harry wanted to understand, when he didn’t know how deep Louis’ wounds were, but now wasn’t that time. Now he didn’t want it…he wanted something simpler and easier and Louis should have just been grateful that he was still even willing to listen, willing to help with the trouble Louis was in. He didn’t have a right to want anything more. 

“I’m sorry,” he started to babble, words falling from his mouth because he couldn’t stand the silence for another second, “I get it. I get what you’re doing and I don’t blame you and I’m sorry…maybe you didn’t want me to say anything, but I’m trying this new thing where I’m actually honest with people. I thought that if anyone in my life deserved that, it was you. I just wanted you to know—I know it doesn’t change anything. I can’t expect that it would, but it’s just…it felt necessary. It’s just…I do, I do love you, Harry, so, so much and it’s the most surprising feeling in the world. Like, in books is always grand and romantic and it’s always, like, reciprocated and maybe it was naive of me to think that it would be like that in real life. In real life it’s, like, so much harder, you know? It’s like standing face to face with a tornado or something. It’s like…scary and big and consuming. Like its all I can think about and it’s terrifying. I was so terrified of this exact thing—of you not having the answer I wanted. But it’s like, it took me so fucking long to understand why you were different, why you made everything in my life different and I’m sorry that I realized it too late. Maybe I loved you for a long time, but I didn’t _know_. I didn’t have anything to compare it to so I couldn’t say it—I didn’t know there was a word to sum up why you were the most important person in the world to me and…”

“Jesus, Louis, take a breath, would you?” Harry’s voice was soft…and mirthful?

“I…” was all that Louis managed to force out of his mouth.

“It’s just…I stopped letting myself believe I’d ever hear you say those things.”

It kind of felt like the ceiling was crashing down on them. Louis was trapped in the most vulnerable place that he’d ever been in his life. Things were messy. They were a fucking disaster and he knew that rationally the only thing that he should have been thinking about was the gun sitting in his car and about everything that was about to happen regarding that, but… _Harry._ Harry was right there, finally in the same place as Louis and Louis didn’t understand how he’d been away for so long. Harry was finally right there, but he was still so far away. It felt like there was a million miles between them despite the fact that either of them could have closed the gap with three small strides. That was the worst part of all. Harry was right there and there were so many tears streaming down his face and Louis couldn’t do anything about it. He’d done it _to_ him, and he was struck suddenly with the realization that he had probably been the reason many times before for Harry’s tears and, fuck, he was a shit person. Scum of the earth. Was there even anything that he could say to fix things? Like, actually _fix_ things. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis tried even though he knew there wasn’t enough sorry in the fucking solar system to erase the things he’d done, “I’m sorry I left that night, fuck, Harry I’m sorry. I didn’t think you could understand—I don’t _want_ you to be able to understand. No one should ever have to understand what it felt like to finally have you and then for everything to just crush me like that…I wanted to be enough for you. I wanted to be good and give you what you needed but I let all of the stupid things I did before you ruin my shot.”

There was a small quirk to Harry’s lips, despite the fact that a few tears were still running down his cheeks. Louis didn’t think he’d ever seen someone who could cry so gracefully (he certainly couldn’t). “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much. And all in one go, too.”

There was a teasing sort of fondness to Harry’s voice and it didn’t really make sense since he wasn’t saying what Louis wanted him to ( _I love you, too)_ but Louis would take it. He’d take the fondness and press it to his chest and try to ignore the dull stabbing pain in his gut that was reminding him that Harry hadn’t said what he was hoping for. 

“I’m just done. Remember when I told you I couldn’t hit bottom? I was wrong. I was so wrong. There is way worse than bottom out there, Harry. I was in my own personal hell and I should have said something to you, I shouldn’t have left.”

Harry was smiling now, smiling and wiping away the tears that were falling down his cheeks. Louis was mortified. He didn’t understand what was so funny. He didn’t get it, he was clearly not explaining himself right. 

“I’m sorry, Harry, I’m sorry that I don’t ever say the right thing, but I’m trying you know? I’m trying to be honest with you and…”

Now Harry was laughing, just tiny little blips of laughter that terrified Louis. What was he doing wrong? Why was Harry laughing? 

“Are you seriously laughing at me?” he tried to be indignant but his voice was about two octaves too high to properly express it. The last word came out shrill and he squeaked on the last syllable. 

Harry nodded, then, still wiping away the tears that were falling. Louis saw his dimple popping and it did something to his chest, he felt it lurch uncomfortably with fondness. Harry got to his feet then, finally closing those three steps that Louis had been agonizing over since he started rambling his confession. Harry placed a hand on either side of Louis’ face, staring directly into his eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m laughing because you actually think you need to keep talking. Like you actually think I needed to hear anything past ‘I love you’,” Harry smiled then and it was just so pure and honest Louis felt heat rushing under his skin, tinging his cheeks a soft pink, “and like, it’s funny because you just told me there’s a gun in your car and we have to go to the police and turn in your best friend because he tried to kill someone…and this really has no right to feel like the most romantic moment of my life, but you were never what I expected, Louis Tomlinson. I think the fact that you could make me laugh in a moment like this says everything that needs to be said.”

With that, Harry leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Louis’ lips. He pulled back way too soon, making Louis’ head swim with his need for more. 

“Oh, and I love you too, duh,” said Harry, voice light as air, “but I think before we have a proper discussion about what that entails…we should probably deal with the gun thing.”

 

…

 

There was a horrible, solid knot in Louis’ stomach that weighed about five million pounds and it was all he could think about as he stood next to his car and watched as a police officer reached into his glovebox and pulled out the gun. Harry was still sitting inside of some waiting room. Louis was on his own. He’d told them everything he could think to say. The guy Matt had shot was someone they’d met a few times for drug trafficking charges and he was currently in critical condition at the hospital with charges pending that related back to the massive amounts of heroin they found on him at the time. Of course, the fact that he was a criminal didn’t ease the ache in Louis’ stomach, because criminal or not there was still a chance that he might die—and it was Matt’s fault. 

Louis had been through a lot of things involving Matt and most of them hadn’t been good, but even in a moment like this one there was a sort of fierce need to defend him bubbling up on his tongue. Sure, Matt had done some awful things, but it was because of the cycle he was trapped in. It was because the system he was raised in was broken and no one had ever given him a real shot at being more than his parents. He’d never had a real chance at being a contributing member of society. He’d expressed to Louis on more than one occasion that he was destined to fall into hard drugs—they were what had killed both of his parents. They were also the only things that eased the nightmares that he was plagued with from his childhood traumas. 

Yeah, it didn’t make him a good person that he had relented to those demons, but Louis understood it. Maybe they weren’t the _same_ , but Louis’ demons had always played nicely with Matt’s—and by that he meant that they were gasoline to Matt’s forest fire. They both had so many things to forget that it had become their combined mission. 

Louis couldn’t help the part of himself that felt like the whole thing was his fault. He couldn’t turn off the nagging voice in the back of his mind that said he had changed and Matt hadn’t had a choice but to change, too. There had been so many times when Louis had treaded water just well enough to keep Matt’s head above water, too, and maybe he hadn’t been prefect. Maybe he’d been the farthest possible thing for perfect, but he’d at least _been_ there. He’d listened and he’d done the only things he knew how to do to keep Matt from giving up entirely. Matt hadn’t been kind and maybe he’d always cared about himself more than he’d ever cared about Louis, but there had been moments. There had been moments where it felt like the world around them was collapsing and they were all that was left. There had been quiet moments where Matt had made Louis laugh and there had been moments when he’d been soft and just wanted to fall asleep to the sound of Louis reading whatever book he had on him at the time. 

The thing was, nothing in the world was black and white and that was something that Louis had been learning a lot lately. No one was wholly good or wholly bad. Matt had made a lot of bad choices while operating under the assumption that it was his only option. He’d felt like he was set up to make the wrong decisions and Louis understood the need to be what people wanted to see. Wasn’t that exactly the same thing he’d done with his mother? He’d wanted nothing but her attention his entire childhood and by the time he was a teenager he’d accepted that he’d never have it. He’d accepted that she’d seen something in him that he hadn’t and that she was probably right. She thought he was bad, that there was something wrong with him and it had been so much easier to just give in to that assumption. It had been so much easier to go down in a fiery blaze that she couldn’t ignore. It had been easier to be what people had expected of him.

The only thing that had ever changed that was Harry. Harry had just expected him to be normal, had expected him to be the same as any other lab partner. That expectation had given Louis everything he’d never had before that. For the first time in his life there was someone who didn’t expect him to let them down and Louis had fought for a long time to make sure that Harry was right. He had done everything he could to make sure that he didn’t let him down. 

But, that familiar pull of the bad things had sucked him back in, the same as it always had. The same as they did for Matt. Louis understood the spiral…but Matt could have asked. He could have asked Louis to help him _stop._ He would have helped. He would have paid whatever it was he owed to the people on the streets and he would have done whatever else it was Matt asked. Louis followed easily and if Matt had ever wanted to be more than a junkie on the streets then Louis would have helped him. 

After watching Louis slowly piece his life together Matt should have been inspired. He should have seen that it was possible to let things get better. Why hadn’t he seen that? Why did he have to treat Louis’ successes as a personal attack? Why did he have to dive deeper into the bad things to make up for the fact that Louis wasn’t there anymore? 

Louis had asked the officers a dozen times what was going to happen to Matt when they found him. They never gave him a direct answer. One officer just kept promising that she would get Matt the help he needed, but how did she know what he needed? He needed a lot more than detox—he needed a Terri. Maybe an army of Terri’s. If Louis had demons clinging to his back and a horrible blackness that sunk into his chest he couldn’t even imagine what was there for Matt. How long had it been since Matt had actually faced one of his demons instead of just numbing them until they were quiet? Did anyone even have a guess at what kind of help he needed? It wasn’t about the drugs—the drugs were just a bandaid for a boy who had grown up without any other chance _but_ to be broken. 

Maybe it didn’t make sense that Louis still cared. Maybe Matt had used up all of his chances and maybe he’d broken Louis’ trust in a pretty major way, but Louis couldn’t turn off the part of him that cared. There was a huge part of him that wanted to see Matt get better and it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to be the one to get him there. Matt didn’t respect Louis, didn’t see him as anything more than a means to the wrong sort of end and Louis couldn’t change that. But maybe someone else could help him. Maybe there was someone out there in the world that could show Matt that _he_ could save himself. 

Right now, though, Louis couldn’t dwell on that because he didn’t have anymore to dump into the void of Matt. He’d given everything he could for years and nothing had touched him, nothing had woken Matt up. If anything, the world they’d created together was just a series of Louis trying to give oxygen to someone who didn’t want to breathe. Matt was too used to drowning, too used to lungs that were more than half filled with water and Louis couldn’t save him. 

But he _could_ save himself. 

 

…

 

Louis was sitting at a table in one of the offices, giving a statement about what he’d seen. Harry was still sitting in the waiting room and Louis wished with everything inside of him that Harry could be next to him, squeezing his hand in encouragement as hesitated on his words, but without him there, Louis had to pretend he was strong. He had to say his piece and hope that he wasn’t going to get in trouble for his involvement. 

“Your friend,” said one of the officers (Louis had forgotten both of their names already because there were about ten million too many things happening in his head as it were), “does he abuse drugs? Do you have any idea where he might hang out?”

Louis rambled off a list of places he’d picked up Matt from in the past few months. He wasn’t really sure how long he’d been in that room, but it felt like ages. He tried to imagine what Harry was going through while he sat in the waiting room. He tried not to dwell on the idea that maybe Harry had gotten freaked out by the weight of everything and ran off. Harry wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like Louis. He didn’t run away and Louis would do well to continue to remind himself of that fact. 

“Do you have any pictures of him?”

Louis nodded and started to scroll through the pictures on his phone until he came across one of Matt. She started at the picture for a moment, and something close to recognition flickered in her eyes. She’d probably seen him before, which wasn’t really surprising given that he’d been in and out of trouble most of his life. 

“Do you mind if I take this to show another officer?” her voice was quieter, less sure than before. Louis didn’t like it. 

He nodded once and watched as she left the office. He could see her through the glass as she showed the picture to one of her colleagues. They leaned close to each other and whispered a few things and Louis’ palms were sweating. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be anywhere but there. He didn’t want to be the only person in the world who knew who Matt was. He wished that Matt had someone else, that this could be anyone else’s problem. The burden of Matt was too much to carry. It was too much when there were so many other more important things that Louis wanted to deal with. 

Like the perfect curly haired boy that was sitting patiently in the waiting room and would probably sit there all night if he had to. Louis just wanted to leave. He just wanted to sleep, to feel Harry’s arms around him while he did. He wanted to talk and talk until his throat was raw and he was deserving of the compassion that Harry showed to him. 

Louis must have been lost in his head because, when he finally looked up there was a new officer in the room. He had a stoic expression in his eyes as he looked down at Louis. He offered his hand and Louis took it cautiously, not even bothering to listen to his name as he introduced himself. There was a somber feeling to the room and it was sinking slowly into Louis’ spine, leaving an unsettling cold inside of him. Something wasn’t right. Someone handed him his phone and he pocketed it, not breaking his eye contact with the new officer. 

“Louis, when was the last time you spoke to your friend?”

It felt like it was weeks ago, was it even possible that the answer he was about to give made any sense? 

“Yesterday.”

The officer nodded and exchanged a glance with the lady Louis had been speaking to just moments before. He looked back at Louis then, placing a gentile hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to ask you to do something really difficult for me, Louis,” he started and Louis didn’t like where this was going at all. He felt like all the sound was draining out of the scene around him. He was trapped underwater. He could see the people around him, was aware they were speaking but he couldn’t _hear_ it. He could just see the officer’s lips moving. He wished he couldn’t tell what the words were that he was saying…but he understood. 

“We found someone this morning that matches the picture you showed us. He didn’t have any sort of ID on him and he doesn’t match the description of anyone who’s currently missing. He was found in a bathroom stall in the train station.”

The office tightened his grip on Louis’ shoulder…but this couldn’t be going where it felt like it was going, could it?

“A cleaner found him. I’m so sorry, Louis. He overdosed. They found him too late. He choked.”

“Choked on _what?_ ” Louis felt angry. These people didn’t know him and they didn’t know Matt and there was just no way this was real life. There was no way that he was sat in the middle of a police station while they told him Matt was dead. There was just no fucking way that this was real life. Fuck what they were saying. Fuck it. They were wrong, because if they found some junkie in the bathroom stall at the train station? Well it wasn’t _his_ junkie friend. It wasn’t Matt. It wasn’t possible. That wasn’t how life worked. They were wrong and Louis had to tell them they were wrong. 

“He choked on his vomit,” the officer said and Louis wanted to scream. He wanted them to know that this wasn’t real and they were wrong because there was no way that Matt would go out like that. It wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Matt was supposed to get the help he needed, just like Harry had said, just like the officer had said. He wasn’t _dead_. There was no way he was dead, he’d survived too much for too long to just end up in a bathroom stall in a train station choking on his own vomit. It wasn’t possible that he was sitting in a drawer in the morgue with a label of John Doe slapped on him. There was just no possible way that this was real life. There was no way that he’d been found like just another anonymous piece of junkie garbage in a fucking train station. He _wasn’t_ just another piece of anonymous garbage. He was a person. A person who had survived for too long to end in such a fucking classless way. There was no way. There was just _no way_. 

“I’m so sorry, Louis. I know this must be upsetting for you.”

“You’re wrong,” Louis’ voice was angry, “it’s not him.”

“I want to take you across the street to the hospital. I want to show him to you so we can clear this up. I want to put a name to him so that he can get the closure that he needs. So his family can get the closure they need.”

 

…

 

The room was silent and smelled of bleach and chemicals. The air was cold and sterile and Louis’ shoes made too much nose as he walked into the room. The officer shut the door behind them and the loud clicking sound seemed to reverberate in his ears one too many decibels too loud. The room was too big to hold all it was holding. The walls were white and there was nothing around them but the lights on the ceiling and an old man in a while coat. The coroner. He had a white moustache and a (probably permanent) forlorn look in his eyes. The only other thing in the room besides the three of them and the unnerving silence, was a metal table with a white sheet draped over it. The shape under the sheet was pretty self-explanatory. Louis knew there was a body under it. 

It wasn’t Matt, though, and as soon as they lifted the sheet to show him, he would be able to tell them that. He could tell them that he was really sorry for whoever it was, but that it wasn’t his friend. He wished Harry was there. He wished he would have pressed harder when they said it was against policy to let anyone else into the room. He needed Harry. But maybe that was irrelevant because Louis didn’t need to plan to need Harry because it wasn’t even Matt. It wasn’t Matt under that sheet and the sooner they pulled it back and showed him whoever it was, the sooner he could tell them that. The sooner they could start checking all of his usual hang outs and the sooner this whole thing could be behind him. Louis just wanted to be done with this. 

Selfishly, he wanted to be done with Matt. Maybe that was cruel and of him, but it was pretty obvious that they weren’t good for each other. Louis wasn’t enough for Matt, he didn’t give him the desire to get better. Matt needed that. He needed someone  that inspired his recovery and that wasn’t Louis. They were bad together. 

“You don’t have to look for long if you don’t want to. I just need you to tell me if it’s him,” the officer’s voice was too loud. His words were irrelevant because it didn’t matter how long Louis stared at the body, it wasn’t suddenly going to become Matt. 

The coroner took four strides toward the top of the table, his boots clicking loudly with the movement. He grabbed the sheet then, pulling it slowly down to reveal mousy blonde hair and a face that Louis _did_ recognize. A face he recognized very well and fuck. 

Fuck. 

He was wrong. He was wrong and he felt his knees giving out. His chest was empty, void of all the blackness that was normally there, because sitting on that cold metal table was the person who gave that blackness to him. Louis was screaming. He didn’t really know what he was saying, but he had fallen to the floor. The guilt was unimaginable. There could have been no way in the world for him to prepare for this. There was nothing that anyone could say to erase the fact that Matt was laying dead on a table in front of him and it was his fault. It was all Louis’ fault .

He should have been better. He never should have fuelled Matt’s spirals. He’d funded them all and he’d chosen getting better over Matt. He’d given Matt no other choice but to decay in the only life he knew because Louis had seen a light. He’d been lucky enough to have the bottom of his life fall out from underneath him and he’d gained perspective. He’d been selfish and instead of sharing his perspective with Matt, instead of encouraging him to get better, he’d prioritized himself. He’d sentenced Matt to death so that he could have a shot at his own life.

There was nothing out there in the world that could ever numb the guilt that he was feeling. 

The world around him started to shut down. He lost sight of everything around him and watched as the old man wheeled the table out of the room. Matt was gone. He was really gone and he’d never ever be able to cause any damage in Louis’ life again. Louis couldn’t save him. He couldn’t save him because it was already too late. He’d already done too much. He was all Matt had ever had and he’d fucked it up. He’d shown Matt that he didn’t care. He’d shown him that there wasn’t such a thing a love in the world. 

The officer was talking to him, he could hear the sound of a voice bouncing off the walls but he couldn’t get up. He was pooled on the floor and he didn’t want to move because the guilt would surely snap whatever was left of his spine. He’d done this. He’d let this happen. 

_Get the fuck out of my car._

Those would forever be the last words he’d said to Matt. They would forever be the last nail in Matt’s coffin because he’d needed Louis and Louis had proven for the millionth time that he was disposable. That there was no such thing as kindness in a world that had fucked him over since birth. Louis was no exception. He was no different than all of the people in Matt’s life who had hurt him the most. Louis had hurt him over and over, had let him down, at left him stranded and Matt kept coming back. He kept giving Louis chances to prove that not everyone in the world wanted to hurt him. He had never given another person a chance like he’d done with Louis, but Louis hadn’t even seen it for what it was. He hadn’t even appreciated the opportunities, the strength it must have taken for Matt to keep coming back time after time. 

No, instead, Louis had just kept breaking him. He hadn’t shown that he’d cared. Matt had been screaming at him that he was sick for years. That he didn’t have any interest in living and all Louis had done was hand him a knife. All he’d done for years was give Matt the means for a slow and painful suicide. 

 

…

 

When Louis finally opened his eyes, it was because he felt arms wrapping around him. There was a soft voice that he recognized, that grounded him and finally woke him up to his surroundings. There was warm breaths against his neck, a steady heartbeat from a chest that was pressed tightly to his side. He took a deep breath in, _Harry._ Harry’s scent flooded him and he looked around the room. It was empty now. All he could hear was Harry’s breathing and his own breathing and the metal table where his friend was laying dead was long gone. He didn’t know how long he’d been wrapped up on the floor, but it had been long enough for someone to bring Harry there. 

“He’s dead,” Louis’ own voice sounded like that of a stranger. 

Harry held him tighter, “I’m so sorry, Lou.”

Louis swallowed the bile in his throat. He kind of wanted to throw up. He wasn’t crying. He hadn’t really cried at all, but this was worse. Whatever it was that was slowing breaking him down from the inside out? It was far worse than just garden variety grief. He wasn’t even properly sad. He couldn’t be sad because even though ‘broken’ had been a state that he’d spent most of his life in and out of, now it was worse. Now he was actually breaking. Now he could feel everything inside of him shutting down because no one could live through something like this. No one could just carry on with this much guilt weighing them down. He was surprised he hadn’t fallen straight through the floor and directly into hell. There just wasn’t enough space in that tiny room to hold all of the things he was feeling. 

“Aren’t you _glad_?” that was all he could think to say. Anger was so much easier. It was so much easier to be mad at the rest of the world because he couldn’t be mad at Matt anymore. He couldn’t be mad at himself because it was pointless.

“Lou, baby,” Harry’s voice was so soft, so broken and so fucking calm. 

“He was trash, wasn’t he? Just another nameless junkie they stuffed into a drawer next to the other six they found this week. Nobody fucking cares, nobody ever fucking cared.”

“I care,” said Harry and Louis didn’t want to believe him. He wanted to be mad because it was easier. He couldn’t be mad at Harry, though and he hated it because Harry’s words were so honest that they finally broke the levies inside of Louis and tears started to pour from his eyes. 

“I thought you’d be glad. I thought you’d be happy you don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

Harry didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to because Louis knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He knew Harry wasn’t glad because Harry could never be glad about another person’s pain. It wasn’t in his nature. 

“I shouldn’t be sad,” Louis choked on his tears while he tried to speak, “he tried to hurt me. He did hurt me, so much and I should be glad, shouldn’t I? He can’t keep dragging me into the darkness and I should be happy.”

“Of course not,” Harry’s voice was so vital as Louis tried to remember how to breathe. As he held Harry’s t-shirt between his fists and left a tear-stained path across his shoulders and neck. Everything was falling apart inside of him but Harry was making it feel okay. How did he do that? “he was your friend. I’m so fucking sorry, Lou. I’m so sorry that there’s nothing I can say to make it better.”

 

…

 

Harry parked the car outside of the front door and looked over to Louis. Neither of them had said anything since they’d left the morgue. Louis didn’t have anything else to say. He didn’t want to explain to Harry that it was all his fault. He didn’t want to remind Harry that he was a bad person and that all he’d ever done for Matt was give him the things he needed to hurt himself. Harry took his hand from the steering wheel and placed it on Louis’ cheek. 

“Stay with me?” he asked softly, “we can pack you some clothes and you can stay at mine. Please.”

Louis was nodding because, yeah. He didn’t want to be away from Harry. He didn’t want to know what it would feel like if he wasn’t there to hold Louis together. The whole thing had a sort of finality to it and he couldn’t believe that just like that, it was all over. He’d never have to look down at an unknown number on his phone and know exactly who it was. He’d never have to drag Matt out of a drug house and he’d never have to pay off the people he owed. It was all over. That whole part of his life was gone and…it was better, wasn't it? 

That made Louis horrible. It made him the absolute worst person in the world for ever thinking such a thing. His selfishness knew no bounds and what if Harry saw that? What would he think of him? Matt was supposed to be his friend. It shouldn’t feel like a breath of fresh air to know that what they had was done. It shouldn't feel like he could finally breathe again. 

Harry’s thumb stroked his cheek gently as he spoke, “I’m gonna pack you some things, do you want to wait here or do you want to help?”

The thought of sitting alone in his car, in the very seat where Matt had been sitting the last time he’d seen him—when he’d told him to _get the fuck out—_ was too much. He couldn’t wait for Harry. He couldn’t be alone. 

“I want to stay with you,” his voice was soft. 

“Of course,” responded Harry and before Louis could even think about moving, his door was being opened and Harry was helping him out. He kind of felt like an invalid. Like Harry was doing all the work for him and he wished he could do better. He wished that he wasn’t crumbling with crisis and that he could be brave and strong in all the ways that Harry was trying to be for him. 

Harry held his hand as they walked through the front door. He wasn’t hesitant. There was no deliberation at all as to whether or not he ought to be walking through the front door of Louis’ house with Louis’ hand in his. Brave. Harry was brave and he wasn’t afraid at all of what was behind the door. They were barely inside before his mother appeared before them. She looked more rested, like she was no longer losing sleep. Louis didn’t know whether that was to his credit or if it was something else entirely. 

She watched them, a hint of curiosity in her eyes as her gaze lingered on where their hands were joined. Harry didn’t back down. He didn’t try to dart up the stairs and avoid the conversation he knew his mother was about to start. 

“Harry,” she said, her voice mildly intrigued, “I see you found Louis.”

Right. Because Louis was shit. Because he’d been spiralling while Harry kept stopping by his house looking for him. Scum. 

“Louis found me,” he corrected, hand still firmly holding onto Louis’. 

“I’m glad,” she said, eyes still on them. Her gaze drifted to Louis then, her head tilting to the side, “what’s wrong?”

In another universe, maybe Louis could have answered. Maybe he would have had the words to say to her, but after all the times that they’d fought about Matt. After all the times she’d told him just what she thought of Louis’ friend, he decided that she didn’t deserve his honesty. She didn’t deserve to know what was going on because she wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t care the same way that Harry did and that was unacceptable. She didn’t deserve to know about Louis’ grief because she wouldn’t know how to handle it. 

“Louis is going to stay with me for a bit.”

Harry answered the question for him and there was a sort of protectiveness laced with the respectful way he addressed Louis’ mum. He was always polite, but now he was politely telling Louis’ mum that she couldn’t take care of him, that it was his job now. Louis’ heart hummed in his chest and he squeezed Harry’s hand, a quiet ‘thank-you’ for being stronger than he could be. 

“Why?” her voice was quiet, submissive in a way that it had never been. She was submitting to Harry’s strength and Louis didn’t understand how one bad thing happening to him had somehow upset the balance of the actual entire universe.

“I think, when he’s ready, Louis should be the one that explains that to you,” Harry’s tone was still respectful but he left no room for her to press. He made it clear that he was taking care of Louis and that she didn’t need to know anything about why if Louis didn’t want her to. 

“Louis?” she asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between them. She couldn’t keep up. She’d never been dethroned in her own house before. 

Louis was weaker than Harry. He couldn’t leave her words hanging without an explanation. 

“Matt died.”

 

…

 

Louis had spent the last couple of days in a sort of daze. He’d been quietly lead around Harry’s flat by his hand. Niall had hugged him a few times, murmuring sympathy and Zayn had come around to apologize for being hard on him. Liam had been there a lot too, they all kind of orbited around Louis quietly, offering sympathy and kind words. Everyone was afraid to step too heavily near him. They all kept their distance while trying to remain _there_. It was a strange sensation after being so overlooked for so long to suddenly have so many people tending to him, but he took it in stride. 

For the most part, he was pretty ‘together’ about the whole thing. Harry had noted on more than one occasion that he hadn’t even cried since they had left the morgue. It wasn’t really surprising, though, given the complicated set of emotions he was rotating through concerning Matt. 

Most notably there was the guilt. The guilt he’d finally admitted to while Harry was tucking him into bed the previous night. 

“How are you, Lou?” he’d asked. 

“Bad,” Louis’ voice had broken on the word, betraying just how ‘bad’ he felt. 

“Oh, baby,” Harry’s calm voice coaxed more words out of him despite the fact that he had been primarily silent since they’d walked into Harry’s flat. 

“Its my fault, you know.”

Of course Harry had disagreed. Of course Louis had rejected his disagreement because it was his fault. there wasn’t enough kind words in the world to erase the damage that Louis had done. Matt had died and it was his fault. It was simple math. 

 

Now, though, Harry was sliding his arm through Louis’ and leading him from Marsha and through the quiet cemetery. Nobody was there. There was just a casket laying next to a hole in the ground and a minister waiting for people to arrive. Harry kept his arm linked through Louis’ as they came to a stop next to the casket. It was pretty and overdone and it screamed of his mother’s influence. There had been no one to take care of things for Matt and if she hadn’t stepped in, there wouldn’t have been a funeral at all. It didn’t make sense that she’d done all of this. It didn’t make sense that she had arranged this whole thing for someone that she hated so whole heartedly for so long. 

He and Harry were probably going to be the only people there. The minister didn’t really have to wait the extra five minutes to see if anyone else would arrive. Harry traced a soft finger over Louis’ lips, watching to make sure he didn’t fall apart as he stared at the box that was currently holding his friend. 

“I don’t believe in God, you know,” Louis said and it was out of place, but he couldn’t understand what kind of minister showed up to a funeral for a fucked up kid who had grown into a junkie adult and tried to kill someone. It didn’t make sense. Forgiveness only went so far. 

“Did he?” asked Harry softly. Harry hadn’t wavered for a second. Not one bit of the disdain that Louis knew he’d felt for Matt had slipped through in the past couple of days. He’d been nothing but steadfast and loyal, asking the appropriate questions at the appropriate times and genuinely excelling at being there. Louis was undeserving, especially since he was responsible for more than a few of the nails in the coffin in front of them. 

“I don’t know,” admitted Louis, “I never asked him.”

He tightened his grip on Louis’ arm, leaning down to whisper into Louis’ ear, “maybe he did. People say that God can forgive anything,” he kissed Louis’ temple softly, “maybe one day you can forgive yourself. I think Matt would want that.”

The words settled into Louis’ chest. He couldn’t imagine a world in which he woke up and was just okay with the decisions he’d made. He couldn’t imagine ever not thinking about the person in front of him and what he’d done to bury him. He didn’t feel much like forgiving himself. 

He didn’t answer Harry. He didn’t have to. Harry knew he wasn’t ready to even entertain the idea of forgiving himself. 

“Tommo,” it was Niall’s voice. Louis became aware, then, of the footsteps behind him. He turned to see Niall, Zayn and Liam walking over to them. Zayn had a bunch of flowers in his hand and he gave Louis’ free hand a quick squeeze before he laid them on the coffin. None of them had even met Matt. It didn’t make sense for them to be there, but there they were, lining up behind Harry and Louis. 

Then, moments later when he got lost in staring at the minister, trying to understand what he would think if he knew the whole situation, he felt another hand on his shoulder. He turned then, looking up at the calm blue eyes that had been grounding him in reality for months. Terri smiled at him and said some things, but he didn’t really listen. He was too caught up in how vital it felt that she was there. In one of his worst moments, she’d come to him. Louis’ heart was swelling in his chest with fondness for the people who had come in his darkest hour to stand next to him while he buried his best friend. It didn’t feel right to find such an amount of joy in such a dark moment, but the scales tipped then. 

“Louis,” he heard Lottie first and then felt her wrapping her arm around his free one. She leaned her head on his shoulder, taking his hand in hers, not saying anything more. He was only just about to question how she’d gotten there when he looked over her shoulder to meet his mother’s eyes. 

Yeah, it was possible to feel joy even in the worst moment of his life. It was possible and his chest was bursting with fondness for all of the people who were surrounding him. None of them were there for Matt. They were all there for Louis and while there was a bit of an empty echo at the reminder that Louis was still all that Matt had, there was also a warm sensation with the knowledge that Matt was _not_ all that Louis had. 

 

…

 

Everyone else had migrated back toward the parking lot and Louis was staring at the hole in the ground where Matt was going to spend the rest of eternity. It was an ominous thought and it was intensified by the fact that this was the first time Harry had left him alone since the morgue. It had been at Louis’ request, though. He’d wanted a moment to gather his thoughts on the whole thing. He wanted to go over and over in his head the things that that minister had said. He wanted to analyze whether it was heaven or hell where Matt was going to end up—even though he believed in neither. There was a pang of jealousy in him for people who believed in God. It must have been so much simpler to sort through grief with the internal assurance that you knew where your loved ones were going. 

“How are you feeling?”

Suddenly, Louis wasn’t alone. His mother was standing next to him. They were the first words she’d said to him since Harry had packed his things and swept him away from their house. They might have been the first words, but it wasn’t the first way she’d shown that she was trying. The whole funeral had been her planning, her funding. Louis would have just let the authorities do whatever it was they did with people who didn’t have families, but his mother had been firm in her desire to help. In her certainty that Louis needed this, this closure. 

“You didn’t even like him,” were the words that he picked, still staring into the hole and not even risking a tiny glance at her, “I don’t get why you did this.”

“Funerals aren’t for the dead, Louis, they’re for the living. They’re for the people who are left behind and I might have had a strong opinion about Matthew, but that doesn’t matter. He was your friend. He was a person. You both deserved this.”

“You never got it. You never got why I wanted to be around him,” apparently since that day he’d broken his silence with Harry, Louis had become an expert at spewing words as he felt them, “But we grew up the same way. He was in foster care. He never had a family. No one saw him. No one gave him attention and he always had to take care of himself…and me? I grew up right in the middle of a giant house and a giant family, but it was the same. No one ever saw me. No one ever loved me.”

“Louis,” she protested, but he continued. 

“ _You_ never saw me. _You_ never loved me.”

“Of course I saw you,” her voice cut in, no bite to it. It sounded like she was crying…but that wasn’t possible. His mother was made of stone, unmovable, emotionless—especially when it came to Louis. 

“I needed you, you know?” Louis continued to stare into the ground, but he wasn’t even looking anymore. He was just trying to keep his eyes focused anywhere but on his mother, “I needed you to tell me who to be. I needed you to be my parent, but you were never there. You left me behind, and I couldn’t make sense of it because it didn’t make any sense. What one earth could a child have ever done to you that you couldn’t forgive? Why couldn’t you forgive me?”

“Because there was nothing to forgive, Louis. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I lived my whole life believing that no one would ever love me. You did that. You made me believe there was something wrong with me. You made me feel so fucking broken all the time and I started looking for reasons for you to hate me, just so it made sense. If I kept fucking up at least it made sense why you didn’t love me.”

“I can’t say anything to take that away. I can’t tell you what you feel is wrong…but you’re wrong, Louis. I always loved you, but you were so much like me. I didn’t want you to go through the things I did.”

Her words were just that. They were just words and maybe Terri was right. Maybe there was nothing in the world that his mother could say that would change anything. He didn’t want that to be the case. He wanted things to be different. He wanted things to be good. Things were so good everywhere else in his life, why couldn’t he just have this? Why couldn’t he have his mother, too? Why didn’t it feel like she was giving him the answer he needed? Why wasn’t it erasing all the left-over pain in his chest?

“I never told you about your father,” his mum was talking again, and it was unprompted. Louis didn’t know what to do with that. No, she hadn’t ever told him about his father. All he knew was his name and the random bits of information his Gran had given him when he’d questioned her as a kid. 

“We met about a year and a half before you were born. He was…bad,” there was a bit of a painful note to her voice, “he wasn’t abusive or anything like that, but I almost think that might have been easier. He was manipulative and controlling and I didn’t see it for a long time. I didn’t see the power he had over me and I didn’t understand that nothing we did was what I wanted. He was mostly just in it for your grandfather’s money. We got married three months after we met and I thought he loved me—but he loved the idea of me. He loved that he had all the power and that I could give him everything he wanted. When I kicked him out, when you were a baby, I swore to myself that I’d never let another person like that close to us. I’d never let someone have that kind of power over me. I never wanted to be weak like that again. I think I was wrong in assuming that compassion was weakness. I wasn’t a good parent to you. I wasn’t compassionate, I was complacent and I tried to let my parents take over and I made it my mission to do a better job with everyone that came after you. That was wrong. I should have fought to be better for you, too, because you deserve that Louis. I took the easy way out and I could apologize for that, but I don’t think you should accept my apology. I think you should make your own decision on what role you want me to play going forward. I’d like to know you, though, Louis because there’s a whole bunch of people over there who saw something in you that I was too scared to see. You’re brilliant and I didn’t have any part in that and I have to live with that every day. That’s a kind of pain I don’t ever want you to know.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t owe her anything, but he wanted something more from her, “I want you to be a part of my life,” the admission made him feel naked, “I’ve always wanted that. People have told me I shouldn’t, that you don’t deserve it, but I want you to be my mum.”

 

…

 

Louis dangled his feet off the edge of Harry’s bed, watching them as they swung back and forth. Harry was standing in front of his wardrobe undoing his tie. Louis was still kind of in the same strange place he’d spent the last couple of days, but he was also kind of relieved that it was over. He could try, now, to sort things out. He could try to function without the confusing grief that had been weighing on him.

Harry turned to him, then, his white shirt unbuttoned halfway and his hair tousled from the rain and the wind at the cemetery. He was still beautiful. He was always beautiful.

“This might be colossally bad timing,” Harry’s words were slow, they were always slow. They were a steady rhythm that Louis had never needed to question. Harry would always talk and his words would always ease whatever turmoil there was inside of Louis, “but…if I’ve learned anything in our time together it's that there might never be good timing, so I’m taking it in stride,” he tried a tentative smile and Louis answered without a hint of hesitation. Harry took this as a sign to plow forward, “can we…talk about us?”

Louis patted the spot on the bed next to him, “yes.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief, taking his place next to Louis without hesitation, “I know what I want,” he started, “I knew what I wanted when I first thought you were trying to flirt with me when you called me Curly.”

Louis felt like his smile might be permanent. It felt like, if he was able to smile after the day he’d been through, that maybe Harry could make him smile through anything. That felt big and important, “tell me,” Louis urged, “tell me what you want.”

Harry slid his hand onto Louis’ lap, capturing his hand and holding fast, “I want this. I want you. I want all of you all the time and I want you to believe me when I say that. I want you to understand that even though shitty things happened before me that I’m never going to be those shitty things. I’m never going to take you for granted and I’m never going to care that you’re rich and I’m never going to do anything to push you away. I just want this. I want to take care of you and when shitty things happen to me, I want you to be the one who takes care of me. It’s okay if you need me more right now. That doesn’t mean that I’m not going to need you more one day. I just want you, Lou, whatever you want to give me, but I don’t just want to be your friend.”

Louis was still smiling, but there was a nagging blackness that wanted to sink into his chest. He fought against it and tried to keep talking, “I want all of that, too,” he said, leaning his head onto Harry’s shoulder, “but it’s not going to be easy. I have made a lot of mistakes and I’m still, like, paying for them. I want to be able to give you everything, I really do, but it’s not going to be perfect. I have a lot of shame over the things I did before you and it’s not just going to go away. What happened that night…it’s probably going to happen again. A lot of times and it’s not really fair of me to ask you to deal with that, they aren’t your mistakes.”

“They aren’t your mistakes, either, Louis. If other people hurt you, that’s not your fault. Let me be the one that shows you how fucking beautiful and perfect you are. I don’t care how slow you want to go, Louis, just as long as I get to have you.”

“Curly?”

“Cheekbones?” 

“Thank you,” started Louis, “for everything. For every single thing you’ve ever done for me. For buying me a tea in class and for letting me read you poetry. Thank you for loving me, for showing me that there were things to love about me. I needed you so much.” Louis pressed his lips against Harry’s neck. 

Harry hugged Louis closer to him, “Louis?” he asked softly. 

“Yes, love?”

He felt Harry’s lips smiling against his temple, where he laid a kiss before speaking again, “I want…to start over with you. I want you to see how strong you are. I want you to see that you can stand on your own, right next to me.”

Louis was silent because he didn’t know what Harry meant by his words. 

“I applied to school in Manchester,” Harry said, his voice soft, “and I think with everything, with Matt, with your mum, I think maybe it could be good to take a step back. To prove to yourself that you are as strong as I’ve always seen you. I want you to come with me.”

 

…

 

It was the last day of exams before summer started. Louis had just finished placing the his last box in the back of the moving van that was full of his, Harry and Niall’s things. He’d helped Harry and Niall move that last few things out of their flat that morning, and then he’d dropped off Harry to his last exam. There was a sort of peace settling inside of Louis despite the fact that it was a day of ‘lasts’. That morning had been the last time he was going to wake up in Harry’s stuffy little flat and it was the last time he was going to climb the giant staircase to his bedroom. The previous day had been the last shift Harry would work at Starbucks, and it had been the last time Louis would get to drag Lottie along to surprise Harry during his shift. It was also the last time that Harry got to attempt (and fail) to recreate Lottie’s dramatic drink order. 

That day, though, while Harry wrote his last final exam, it was also going to be the last time that Louis went to see Terri. It didn’t feel real. It didn’t feel like he had stopped needing her and he’d balked two months ago when she suggested that they stop seeing each other twice a week. She’d dropped their sessions down to one per week and Louis had tried to fight it, but he’d lost. She’d been insistent that he didn’t need her the way he once had. 

Louis didn’t believe that, but he’d stopped fighting her. 

Over the past few months Louis’ life had changed a lot. All of it was for the better. He’d managed to catch up in all of his classes and had been a shoe-in to the English programme he was planning to take in Manchester in the fall. For the summer, he was going to stay with Harry at Anne and Robin’s house. There was a sort of bittersweet feeling to giving up the life they’d made in Doncaster, but Niall wasn’t going to be far. He was spending the summer in Holmes Chapel as well and they’d calculated the distance from Harry’s mum’s to Zayn’s and there would be plenty of visits. Doncaster would always be the place he’d spent most of his life, but it wasn’t his home. Not anymore, because Louis had learned that ‘home’ could have another meaning entirely. Home wasn’t just a place where you ate and slept. Home was green eyes and goofy smiles that were all dimples. Home was not a place at all, really. Home was Harry and wherever Harry went, that would be Louis’ home. 

Just as he slid the back of the moving van closed and stared back at the giant swooping mansion he was giving up for a tiny bedroom in an even tinier village, the door opened. Louis’ mother walked toward the front steps and took a seat on them, patting the spot next to her. Louis locked the back of the van and climbed the stairs to sit next to his mother. 

“You’re really leaving,” her voice was soft. It usually was soft when she addressed Louis, highly aware that she needed to earn every word she said to him. Louis no longer felt that, though. He didn’t have to earn his place with her. He didn’t have anything left to prove. Their relationship was built based on what he needed it to be and she was trying her hardest to fit into whatever ‘mother’ shaped mold Louis created each day. He was grateful for that. He was grateful for her patience because he didn’t know how to be her son any more than she knew how to be his mum. It was almost better like this, though. It was almost better to know that neither of them _needed_ the other. It was all about want and that was kind of liberating for Louis. 

“I am,” he said, staring across the yards. There had been a time in his life where the size of their property had given him anxiety, where it had done nothing but remind him of how alone he was. Now? Now it was just a place. A place full of people that he actually knew. Maybe they weren’t really a ‘family’ in the traditional sense, but they were people who cared about each other. That was more than they’d ever been before that. 

“I asked Dan to come home,” his mother said softly, “I owe that to you, you know? You were brave and you let somebody love you and I realized I want that for myself. I realized that Dan always wanted to be that person—I was just too scared.”

Louis smiled over at her, “Lottie will be glad,” he said, “I’m glad.”

“I have something for you,” she said after a moment of comfortable silence, “two somethings, really.” She handed him a keychain with one single key on it.

He looked down at it. It was familiar, “what’s this?” he asked, fairly certain that it was the key to the front door of her house. 

“Your key,” she said, “you left it on the counter, but it’s yours, Louis. I want you to know that you can always come back here. Maybe it doesn’t always have the best memories, but I think we’ve been doing a pretty good job of creating some new ones. You can always come back. A day, a week, an hour, I don’t care—you’re always welcome here, Louis.”

He didn’t really know what to say. She was right. They had made some pretty decent new memories and it made leaving the house that he’d lived in all of his life a tiny bit easier knowing that she didn’t mind if he wanted to come back. That she _wanted_ him to come back. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Thank _you,”_ she amended, “thank you for giving me a second chance. I didn’t deserve it, but I appreciate it every single day, Louis.”

“Will you visit me and Harry?”

He saw her lip quiver a bit at the question, “would you want me to?”

Louis nodded once. He did want that. He wanted the new dynamic in the place that he would share with Harry. He wanted to let her into the safety of his new life where she didn’t have control but didn’t care anymore. It would be on his terms. Always his terms. She’d given him free-reign and he’d surprised her often with just how many places he wanted to include her. 

“Then I will,” she promised and he believed her. 

They met each other’s eyes now. She wasn’t a stranger. She wasn’t a mystery with the same eyes as Louis. She was something more than that…and while maybe she’d never really be his mum like Anne was Harry’s, it was close and it was more than it had ever been and Louis would take what he could get. 

“Your other gift,” she said, then, reaching her hand out. Louis caught the item in the palm of his hand. This time it was a pair of keys. These were keys he didn’t recognize. He met her eyes again with confusion. “I got you a place in Manchester,” she explained softly, “it has a spare room and room for two cars. I know that that’s all I’ve ever given you was just stuff and this is just more stuff, but I wanted to know you’re okay. I wanted to make sure that you and Harry had a proper place to call your own. It doesn’t make up for the rest of it, but it’s just a small thank you.”

“Thank you?”

“Yes. A thank you for being gracious enough to give me a chance when I was the person in the world who deserved your compassion the least. You grew into something way more than I ever could have hoped for and I can’t take any of the credit for it, but I’m still proud, Louis. I’m proud that you’re my son and I’m proud that you fought for the life you wanted. I’m proud of the kindness inside of you and I’m so happy that we got to have these last few months so you could show me what I’d been missing. You woke me up, Louis. You made me realize that life stings, but that sometimes its worth it because it makes you stronger. It’s not about being in control, its about letting the good things take control and lead you to rest of it.”

 

…

 

Terri was crying before Louis even got a chance to take his seat. He smiled up at her, flopping down into his bean bag chair. 

“You know, if you ever want to fill my hour with someone new you might want to actually get some real furniture. Its kind of hard to take a six foot tall woman with bean bag chairs seriously,”

Terri just sniffed once, trying to laugh at the joke, but the sound came out kind of gargled. 

“Oh, come on, love,” he said, almost succumbing to the sadness himself—and he was _not_ going to cry, he just wasn’t, “weren’t you the one who told me that it was a good thing when I accused you of trying to break up with me when you dropped me down to a measly hour a week? Doesn’t that mean this is a good thing? I’m breaking up with you, but, like, in a good way. It’s not you, it's me.”

Terri inhaled deeply, “its just…I’ve seen a lot of people through a lot of things, but there was a couple of times in those first few sessions were I really didn’t think I was going to get through to you. I really thought that you didn’t want my help.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted, “I was used to being miserable and you ruined that. Shame on you.”

Terri laughed again, “you’re not the same person.”

Louis sighed, “don’t make me cry,” he whined, “this was supposed to be a nice, pleasant goodbye.”

“We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”

Louis nodded, “you woke me up,” and dammit, he was getting sentimental and that was dangerously close to emotional—and emotional would lead to tears. 

“I’m never going to forget you, Louis. You’re the exact person I dreamed of meeting when I got into this industry. You are my shining star. You made my entire career choice worth it.”

Louis felt a tear roll down his face, “I don’t know if I’ll ever stop needing you.”

Terri sighed, “you already did, I just wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.”

“I’m still not ready,” Louis admitted. 

“We still have,” she checked her watch, “56 minutes.”

Louis wiped away his tears and settled back into his chair, trying to pretend he didn’t know he’d never sit there again, “my mum bought Harry and I a house in Manchester.”

“Oh,” said Terri, “that was generous. Did she give you an explanation?”

“She said it was a thank you for giving her a second chance.”

“You are a very gracious person, Louis. You made a serious concession for her. She’s right to value that.”

He nodded, it didn’t _feel_ like a concession, though. It felt natural in a seriously unnatural way. Like they were supposed to have come together in the end. They were so much alike, “Dan is moving back, too.”

“I bet your siblings are happy for that,”

Louis nodded again. 

“What about you and Harry?”

Louis’ lips twitched, “good. Things are good.”

“What about the physical things? Have you been intimate?”

“We’re taking it slow.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Bad. It feels like I’m cheating him out of a normal relationship and setting him up for a lifetime of sexual frustration.”

“It’s not going to last a lifetime, Louis. You’ve got you give yourself a break.”

Yeah, maybe he did. Harry hadn’t seem upset—didn’t really seem impatient in any way. They were trying, small things at a time. Harry had been a fucking saint, as usual. The thing was, the fire was there. The desire was there, but Louis was mostly operating on fear. He didn’t want to dive into things with Harry because he was afraid not to. That didn’t seem like the right way to go about it. They’d get there. He knew they would and he also knew that he’d have to walk through the flames of his shame probably a million times at first…but it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually he’d learn that Harry only wanted the best for him and that, maybe by some stretch of the imagination, _he_ was the best for _Harry._

“I remember the first time we met,” mused Terri, “when you didn’t want to tell me you’d taken those pills on purpose. Do you remember what I told you?”

“Some cliche about how it was a cry for help?” Louis was smiling. 

Terri smiled back, “yeah, exactly. And I told you that I thought you needed someone to tell you that it’s okay to not be okay.”

“And you were that someone,” Louis was feeling very suddenly emotional. He didn’t want to say goodbye to Terri. She had taught him how to breathe after he’d spend his entire life underwater. She had sat across from him week after week and poked and prodded and shared her own pain until he’d finally spilled open all over her floor. Then, she’d bent down and picked up every one of his pieces and showed him bit by bit how to put them back together, how to be a _person._ Terri had taught him everything. In his own mother’s absence, she’d taken the role and taught him how to be alive. There was no way to sum up what she’d been to him. There was no way to say “thank you for giving me a life” and then walk away like that could ever be enough. There wasn’t a way to repay her. He owed her everything he had. She’d taught him how to love, how to be loved and that was more than he could ever give her. He would be indebted to this woman for the rest of his life, and that was all fine and good when he was still able to see her…but now? Now the thought of her not being there? What if he fucked up again? What if he wasn’t strong enough to make it through the bad without her? She wouldn’t be just an email away. She’d be a memory of a person that had been everything to him when he hadn’t even known what he needed. 

“I’m always going to think about you, Louis.”

She was crying again. Louis was crying again because she was about to close his file. She was going to write the last notes in his folder and file it away forever. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t come back here. It wasn’t allowed. There was protocol leaking from every corner around them. They couldn’t continue this, even in private and the finality that that added to the whole thing made it even harder to accept. 

The thing was, Louis was excited. He was excited for his new life and the things that he would get to build with Harry, but he was also scared. There was no one he could tell that to, though. He couldn’t risk Harry misunderstanding. There would never be a proper stand-in for the giant hole that Terri would leave in his life. 

And fuck if it was a good thing to break up with your therapist. It was a _hard_ thing, too, because leaving felt like he was saying he didn’t need her—but he always would. In the dark moments he’d always relate back to the things she’s said and the ways she’d taught him how to cope. 

“Thank you isn’t enough,” Louis said, “there isn’t anything I can say that would be enough. You gave me my life back. You saved me.”

Terri shook her head, “no, Louis, you saved yourself. I was just lucky enough to watch it happen.”

 

The End. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to write an epilogue for all of you. There are so many of you that have been commenting on this for months that I feel like I owe it to you to tie up all the loose ends that you're left wondering about, so, leave me a comment about anything and everything that you're wondering about and if I have an answer for you, I will try to incorporate it into the epilogue. 
> 
> Truly and honestly, if you've made it this far, thank you. Thank you. Thank you so fucking much. This has been a labour of love, but I don't know if I would have been able to get here without all the encouragement I received. 
> 
> I love you all, and I will be back with your epilogue and hopefully some one shots over the next few months. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thanks for taking this journey with me. 
> 
> Instagram: feels.like.home01


	28. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to post! My boss took my co-workers and I on a spa retreat this past weekend which was basically just a bender and a total write-off for anything productive (like writing this epilogue). 
> 
> I hope this ties up a few loose ends, and I know it doesn't touch on everything but I'm a believer in less is more.

**New York City- July**

 

Harry had the window rolled all the way down in the yellow taxi and most of his upper body was hanging out. He’d kept up a near constant narration about how weird it was to drive on the right side of the road and how bright the city lights were. His excitement was infectious and even though it wasn’t Louis first time in America, it felt like it was. It felt like he was seeing the whole thing through Harry’s excited eyes. 

“Look, Lou! Look!” He exclaimed, gripping onto Louis wrist. 

Louis laughed as he looked out of the window and Harry excitedly pointed at the signs as they drove through Times Square. Every single thing had excited Harry since the moment their plane had touched down earlier that morning. Even the time change had thrilled him “it’s like we get to rewind and live in this day even longer, Lou. It’s perfect, I want today on repeat forever.”

Louis was hopelessly smitten with Harry’s enthusiasm, and really, Harry in general. They’d been solid for months. It seemed like Louis had finally stopped tripping over his own feet and he was finally able to give Harry what he wanted--and for some magical reason that Maybe Louis would never understand, _he_ was what Harry wanted. It wasn’t a question, it was firm and steadfast. Every moment with Harry was perfection. Their lives had blended together completely seamlessly and things never felt like a sacrifice, because at the end of the day, there was always this. There was always a soft tug on his hand and a whispered “Lou” followed by an excited tale. Seeing the world through Harry’s eyes truly was the most beautiful way to see things. Harry made everything much kinder, much brighter and most of all, much lighter. He didn’t let Louis dwell on the bad and maybe that was the thing Louis needed most of all. 

Louis watched with a pleasant aching fondness in his chest as Harry watched the city around them and as the street lights and neon lights lit the gorgeous peaks and valleys of his face. He’d done this. He’d given Harry New York and he’d given him Broadway. They’d just hailed a cab from outside the theatre where Harry had just about burst at the seams with his joy. They’d spent their first night in New York watching _Wicked_ and Harry never been so excited about anything. Louis wanted so bad to keep this up, to keep this day on repeat with his boy. 

“You know,” he said, and Harry turned to him then, the lights from Times Square making his smile seem all the brighter, “when I gave you the tickets, I thought you’d want to bring Niall.”

Harry punched Louis’ shoulder playfully, “liar,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss Louis’ cheek “you knew I’d want you to come. I wouldn’t want this moment with anyone else, Louis Tomlinson. You are the love of my life.”

He was so confident, so unapologetic in the ways he loved Louis. Louis tucked away each ‘I love you’ into a place in his mind where he could call on it whenever he needed to be reminded of just how real his life was—because it didn’t feel real sometimes. It felt like life had shifted far too dramatically for it to even be real.

There were still moments when Louis calculated everything that Harry had given him and stressed about how uneven things were between them. There were people in his life that he’d be indebted to in ways that he didn’t stand a chance at repaying. Harry had given him the entire universe when it had felt like he’d been undeserving of even the tiniest crumb. Harry had given him purpose, companionship and love where he’d previously only had emptiness. There was no way to repay that. There was no way that Louis could ever be as much for Harry as Harry was for him—but dammit was he going to try.

 

...

 

Harry’s cheeks were flushed the most charming shade of pink as he stood next to Louis and brushed his teeth. They’d just left the restaurant where they’d lingered a little longer than necessary, reaching the bottom of the half-litre of wine they’d been sharing. Harry had waxed poetic about the smells coming from the grates along the sides walks about about the graffiti covering the buildings next to the hotel they were staying in. Harry saw everything for its beauty, no matter what the rest of the world might have seen. On the way back to the hotel Harry had held Louis’ hand while he spun tales about what he imagined the hierarchies to be like amongst the New York sewer rat population. Maybe Louis had been reading him too much poetry because it kind of felt like Harry had transformed himself into the most beautiful poem Louis had ever read. 

Louis spit out his tooth paste and looked back up at Harry in the mirror, bumping his hip against Harry’s, “hey,” he said. 

Harry’s eyes smiled back at him, his perfect pink lips still wrapped around his toothbrush. 

“I love you, you know?” Louis was fond, so, so fond and there was something happening in his chest as he thought about all the bits of Harry and how they added up into the actual perfect person. His quirks, his faults, his laughs, his dimple, the way he sang show-tunes like he belonged on centre stage—they all totalled up to create this person that was standing next to Louis. This person that _wanted_ to stand next to Louis—and would stand next to him until Louis asked otherwise (which he wouldn’t—ever). It was just a lot. Harry was a lot and he was _Louis_ ' and maybe that was the best thing that had ever been Louis'. This love they shared—it was _everything._

Harry leaned over the sink and rinsed his mouth quickly, meeting Louis’ eyes in the mirror, “I know.”

Louis smiled, snaking an arm around Harry’s waist and resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. When he stared at their reflection he didn’t see a broken boy standing next to someone much stronger, someone he didn’t deserve. He saw Harry and Louis. He saw two people who had come together even when it had felt impossible. There was a pull, like Harry was his magnetic north and no matter what direction he might have run in, his arrow would always point to Harry, to his home. It was supposed to be like this. 

“Yeah,” he said, placing a soft kiss on Harry’s bare collarbone, “but do you _know,_ know?”

Harry giggled and it was magical. Any sound that fell from Harry’s lips was magical and _fuck_ maybe Louis was the one waxing poetic. It was just—he had so much. It didn’t seem possible to have this much and Harry had been the one to give it to him. And he just kept giving and there just had to be some way that Louis could show him just how much it meant. Just how much he appreciated the sacrifices and allowances he’d made to fit himself properly around Louis’ demons. 

“You could tell me again,” Harry suggested before pressing his lips to Louis’ temple.

“‘Kay,” began Louis, giggling a little despite himself, “I love you. I loved you in Doncaster, I loved you in Holmes Chapel, I love you in New York and I’ll love you in Manchester. You are everything to me, Harry. Literally every single good thing in my life is because you cared. You make me strong, you see me through the dark and you’ve seen every bad thing I’ve ever done and you’ve never looked away. I owe you everything, Curly.”

Harry’s grin was ear to ear and Louis couldn’t take his eyes off of their reflection. They belonged together—the mirror couldn’t lie, “I’m not keeping a tab. You don’t owe me anything, Lou. You give me everything.”

“Not _everything_ ,” Louis amended, because, no. There was still a pretty big something that Louis had withheld and lost sleep over. It wasn’t because he didn’t want to…it truly wasn’t that. The problem mostly stemmed from the haunting memory of the first time he’d tried. He didn’t want the crash. He didn’t want the blackness to sink into him, not when every other second he spent with Harry was so flawless. He didn’t want to be reminded that he’d been broken and most of all, he didn’t want to remind Harry that he’d been broken. It was a sore spot of Louis'—one he spent maybe a little too much time dwelling on than was really necessary, but he was human after all. It wasn’t his fault that he was obsessing over not disappointing Harry—that seemed pretty normal. His words, though, well they were a bit _too_ human. 

“Yeah, _everything_.” Harry’s voice was firm, so was the way he hugged Louis closer to him. 

Louis humour was poor and pretty ill-timed, he saw it once the words were out, “I wasn’t giving you everything when you were making out with Nick.”

Low blow. It was a low blow and Louis knew it and the way Harry’s face sank reiterated his mistake. Dammit. 

“Not fair,” pouted Harry, and no, it wasn’t. He was right. They’d discussed this exact thing until they were both blue in the face, but here Louis was—ashamed of his own shortcomings and trying to make something out of nothing. Nick wasn’t anything and he rationally knew that. Harry had explained to him over and over again that it had been an accident. He hadn’t understood what Nick had meant by ‘hanging out’, and in Nick’s defence he’d only asked based on the assumption that Louis was nothing more than Harry’s friend. Nick had initiated the kiss and Harry had been too wrapped up in his own head (and obsessively worrying about Louis) to push back. It wasn’t like he’d kissed Nick back and it had only been a moment’s hesitation before Louis had brought him right back to reality. 

And so, it wasn’t fair of Louis to bring up—but he was hurting. He didn’t want to deal with his own insecurity and he realized his mistake pretty quickly. 

“You’re right. That wasn’t fair,” he agreed, “I’m sorry. I’m just—Nick would have been able to give you everything…like _everything_ , everything,” Louis looked up to meet Harry's eyes in the mirror and saw the flush to his own cheeks, “sex,” he clarified. 

“I don’t want to have sex with Nick, though,” Harry turned so that his chest was pressed against Louis’ and gripped onto his shoulders, “you’re not denying me anything, Lou.”

He’d said those words the last 10 times that Louis had tried to use Nick as an example of his own problems. He’d said those exact words when Louis had tried to desperately to give Harry dozens of blow jobs with whispers that he was ‘really good at this’. Whispers saying ‘just please, let me give you _something’._ But Harry’s sainthood apparently also included the ability to fight through a lusty haze and the promises of blowjobs that his eyes betrayed him really wanting. 

Harry didn’t want to take anything that Louis didn’t _really_ want to give. That’s what he’d said…and Louis had no reason not to believe him. If he hadn’t meant the words, he wouldn’t still be there. Sometimes Louis had to remind himself of that fact. 

 

...

 

It happened that night. Something inside of Louis had shifted. Some sort of certainty had settled into him and where the fear of failure had lived for a long time there was now just clarity. It had been somewhere between Harry’s promise that he hadn’t been denying him anything, that Louis had given Harry everything by giving him himself. Somewhere between fits of giggles as a slightly tipsy Harry held Louis down and tickled him relentlessly and between devout promises that Louis truly was the most beautiful human being to ever walk the planet (Harry was wrong though, because he already had that title). It had been after Louis had read Harry a few of Shakespeare’s love poems and Harry had repeated his favourite parts against the skin of Louis’ neck. 

Harry’s lips tasted like toothpaste but the back of his tongue still tasted a bit like shiraz. Louis kissed him like he always kissed Harry—the only way there was to kiss Harry, really—with everything he had inside of him. Harry’s mouth tasted like Louis’ future, like everything he could ever think to want. Harry’s lips answered every unspoken question he had and his smiles calmed every storm that Louis could ever brew inside of him. In short, Harry was safe. Harry was solid. He loved Louis even when Louis couldn’t even consider loving himself. 

And Harry was so. fucking. sexy. And hard. He was currently buried in the mountain of pillows on their hotel bed, Louis perched on top of him. There was a heat sinking into Louis stomach and it wasn’t different—it was the same heat that had been there since the first time he’d kissed Harry. It had always been like this. Harry had never been shy in letting Louis know that he wanted him. He’d never tried to hide his desire, instead he’d let it sit out there in the open and let Louis decide what to do about it. Most of the time, though, Harry would last as long as he possibly could before relenting. He’d kiss Louis’ lips softly one last time and then start murmuring romantic things and he’d hold Louis through his complaints that he wanted to give more. 

Because Harry was a saint. He was Mother fucking Theresa. 

This time was different, though, Louis saw it. He didn’t know if Harry had, yet, but it probably wouldn’t take him long to catch up. 

Louis swirled his tongue against Harry’s, his hips jutting forward, pressing them together. First, before Harry could think otherwise, he let out a soft moan. Louis felt the sound all the way from the top of his spine to the tips of his toes. Greedy, he pressed forward again, trying to entice the same sound from Harry, the same feeling down his spine. This time, Harry pulled back from the kiss, catching his breath. He seemed to right himself then, grasping back onto his sainthood and staring up at Louis, eyes wide. He wanted it. He wanted Louis and he could say a million words to try to convince Louis that it was okay, that he was fine, that he didn't _need_ this—but it would all be lies. And Louis wanted it, too. He wanted all of it and not just because he felt like he owed it to Harry. He wanted it because they fit so well together in every possible way that he just _had_ to know how they would fit together here. 

He looked down at Harry through his lashes, his eyes heavy with desire. 

“Love you,” he said, voice hoarse. 

Harry blinked once, trying to wriggle his hips away from Louis, to relieve the pressure of their hardening cocks pressing together. Louis couldn’t have that, so he pressed down harder, his eyes not leaving Harry’s. Harry bit his lip, closing his eyes and trying to be strong, “Lou,” he whined, begging for a break. He wanted a moment to collect his wits, but Louis couldn’t have that. He didn’t want another night of whispered promises instead of solid, larger promises that they could press between their bodies. Louis wanted Harry so fucking much. Whatever that meant. 

“I want you,” he breathed before he pressed his hips flush against Harry’s and dove in for another deeper kiss. 

Harry’s tongue kept pace with his easily with Louis’, catching on quickly to the want that was aching inside of every pore of Louis’ skin. Louis kept his place atop of Harry, rocking his hips slowly as they kissed deeper and deeper. Louis' hands slid across Harry’s bare chest, the feel of his skin making time melt around them. Maybe this was a day they could live in forever. Maybe the feel of their skin together would freeze the world entirely and they could continue like this. Louis wanted that. He wanted Harry. 

He slid a hand between them, moving to Harry’s waist, to the joggers that were preventing his hands from feeling all that he wanted to feel. Harry made a sort of whimpering sound as Louis’ hand tugged at the fabric, pulling it down so he could free Harry’s cock. Harry’s pants ended up tangled somewhere around his ankles, because Louis couldn’t be bothered to properly remove them, not now. Not now that Harry was naked, breathing up at him, clearly fighting to keep his wits. 

Louis just wanted to make him feel good. Wanted to make _them_ feel good, because this was about them. Maybe that was the clarity he’d been missing all the other times he’d tried with Harry. Harry had stopped him, catching onto his desperation and reminding Louis time and time again that it wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about Louis proving that he could make him feel good—he already did that. 

This time it didn’t feel like that. This time it was just a fevered desperation inside of Louis. He needed to know how Harry felt. He needed to know how it would be to feel their bodies sync up as they both chased after their release. He’d given Harry every possible thing he could think of all that was left was this. All that was left was him, his body and this would be the first time he really, truly wanted to give it. There was no fear because he knew even if the bad things sank into his chest that Harry would be there. He would hold him and they would ride it out together. And it wouldn’t last forever. 

Louis leaned down again for another kiss, teeth clinking against Harry’s. He slid his hand between them, grasping onto the base of Harry’s dick. Harry made a sound that Louis cataloged into his brain, astounded that Harry could be so much. That he could be hilarious and sweet and that he could be this, too. He ignited fires inside of Louis that no novel had ever prepared him for. Was this how it was supposed to be? All those other times...hed never felt like this. He’d never been so fucking thoroughly turned on to this level. The desire exploded in him as he felt the very fabric of reality melting around them. All he could feel was the soft skin against his palm and fuck. He had to kiss, to taste, to feel. 

He broke away from Harry’s mouth suddenly, Harry’s protests followed him in the form of whines. Louis silenced them, though, the second he lifted up and moved to undress himself. Harry’s eyes tracked every movement, his tongue peaking out from between his pink lips. 

Time had stopped. Louis was certain of that as moved to resume his place on top of Harry. He was naked now, his own cock sliding sinfully against Harry’s, making his tongue roll to the back of his throat and making Harry choke out a “Lou” that sounded like all of Louis’ dreams coming true. 

“Aw fuck, Lou, you’re so pretty,” Harry had finally found his voice, his hands sliding across the bare skin of Louis’ chest. 

Louis leaned in, placing a soft kiss at the corner of Harry’s mouth. He found Harry’s hand, where it was experimentally squeezing the soft flesh of Louis’ bum. He placed Harry’s palm on top of his heart where it was beating out a staggeringly fast rhythm, “yours,” he said. 

Harry lifted his neck so he could place a proper kiss onto Louis' eager lips, “you’re everything I ever wanted.”

And that was enough. Louis scooted down then, until he was kneeling between Harry’s ankles. It had been months. Harry had been his for months and he wasn’t sure how it was even possible that he didn’t know what he tasted like. There was no hesitation left inside of Louis. He didn’t even bother to tease Harry, to prepare him. He just leaned down and took Harry’s cock into his mouth, tongue wrapping around the tip. Harry made a strangled sort of sound and his hips moved up instinctually, forcing himself deeper into Louis throat. Louis felt his eyes start to water and _yes_. Harry was so good. He tasted so good and Louis couldn’t fucking believe that they were here. That they were in New York City, in a real relationship and that Harry was in his mouth. It was...a lot. Louis' hands gripped onto Harry’s hips, nails digging in as Harry thrusted deeper, deeper still.  

Given the fact that time had no meaning here, Louis wasn’t sure how long it had even lasted. Soon he was tasting Harry as he leaked in that tell-tale way that told him he was close. Louis was caught. He wanted to feel Harry’s release as it rushed down his throat. He wanted to wake up in the morning with the reminder on his tongue...but he still wanted more. 

He pulled off of Harry, a string of ‘fuck’s falling from Harry’s mouth as he felt the cool air against his wet dick. Quickly Louis dug into the drawer on his side of the table. He returned then, leaning in to kiss Harry. Harry moaned against the taste of himself and Louis smiled down at him. 

“Want you, want to make you feel good,” 

Harry must have not liked the desperate edge to his voice. Louis fiddled with the wrapper to the condom he was holding

“Hey, hey, hey, Lou, slow down. You don’t have anything to prove,” he said as he stilled Louis’ hands. 

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Louis said honestly, “I just want you. I want everything because you’re perfect, this is perfect. We’re perfect and I love you so fucking much, Harry. Just— _please._ ”

Harry must have felt the sincerity behind Louis’ words because this wasn’t just a desperate need to show Harry that he was worth it. That he could _earn_ Harry’s love. Every other time he’d tried, that’s what it had been. It had been a need to prove himself, but this time it wasn’t that. It was just a solid desire in his belly, and Harry could sense it. 

“Okay,” said Harry, relenting. He gripped Louis shoulders firmly, his eyes serious, “you can still change your mind. It’s me,” he reminded Louis, “just tell me if we need to stop. I promise I’ll take care of you.”

“I know,” said Louis because he knew it was true. No matter what happed, Harry would take care of him. “I trust you.”

Louis didn’t hesitate then, there was no point. They were on the same page and Louis wanted to live in this day forever. He wanted Harry and Harry wanted him and it just couldn’t go wrong. They’d calculated every step that had lead them there and Louis was beyond ready. In fact, he was surprised he’d managed to hold out this long because the feel of Harry was enchanting. It had been so easy to fall in love with all the other parts of him but Louis needed this part, too. 

Louis pressed the condom into Harry’s hand, “please,” was all he said. 

Harry looked up at Louis, hand trailing down his arm. There was a sort of cloudiness to his eyes, a debate laced within his gaze. Louis hoped with everything inside of him that Harry wasn’t misreading this. That he wasn’t taking his certainty as desperation. He was ready and he didn’t want Harry to question it, his body was screaming for release, for a real sort of tethered connection to Harry. He wanted to fuse himself to Harry. To forget where each of them ended and the other began. He _needed_ it. 

Harry seemed to have reached a conclusion then, because before Louis could even form a coherent thought or word he felt Harry’s hand on his dick....Louis closed his eyes, fireworks exploding behind his eyelids because...um, yeah. Harry’s hand was on his cock and it was fucking brilliant and perfect and...Harry was putting on the condom? He was rolling it down Louis’ shaft and staring up at him with a sort of plea in his eyes that Louis hadn’t expected. Louis tilted his head to the side, a question in his glance. They hadn’t discussed this—this possibility that Harry would want it like this. Louis had assumed that he would bottom, same as he had in every other situation in his life. It was...a lot of responsibility to do this for Harry. What if he wasn’t good at it? 

Harry must have caught onto his confusion and his explanation was instantaneous, “I don’t want to take anything from you,” there was a shimmering sort of fondness in Harry’s voice, “want you to give it to me.”

 

If someone had asked Louis to write down what it had felt like to be inside of Harry, he wouldn’t have been able to do it. He wouldn’t have been able to sum up the way that Harry’s body had made the world burn red behind Louis’ eyelids. He wouldn’t have been able to sum up the way that Harry’s voice had redefined music as he offered encouragement and groans in return for every thrust that Louis made. He wouldn’t have been able to sum up the way tears fell from his eyes and beaded against the back of Harry’s neck and the sweat that had pooled there. He wouldn’t have been able to state simply how to tasted to lick up that sweat and tear mixture and taste just how seamlessly they blended together. He also would never have been able to voice what it felt like to feel Harry contract around him while he choked out words that Louis didn’t really understand and came all over his own tummy. Louis also wouldn’t have been able to simply tell what it had felt like to come undone inside of Harry, to feel that close to him and then to fall from grace right there in the safety of Harry’s arms. 

He hadn’t been spared—the blackness had sunk into his chest in the just the same way as it always had, but this time it had been different. Harry hadn’t let him dwell on it. He’d grabbed a towel and cleaned them both off while he prattled off ideas for names of the cat he insisted they needed to have in their new flat. And it had been okay. Louis hadn’t expected it, but the blackness came and went, like a fleeting cloud on a sunny day. It had been dark, it had rained down on him, but it hadn’t lasted. The only thing that had lasted—the only thing that would always continue to last—was the perfect boy who had kissed the back of his neck and held Louis close while he sang the opening number to _Cats_ while Louis’ slowly drifted off to sleep—safe.

Harry would always be safe. 

 

**Holmes Chapel—10 years later**

 

Louis looked up from the essay he was grading to the clock at the back of the classroom. 4:47. He smiled to himself as he started to collect the papers surrounding him and tucked them into his briefcase. Thursdays were the longest days of the week, but he never minded. Harry ran drama club until 5 and then they rushed out of the school together, always eager to get to Lilly. 

There was a time where Louis wouldn’t have even entertained the idea that this could be his life. He’d never imagined finding joy in the simplest things, like making tea for Harry every morning and sharing chaste kisses before pulling into the car park at the school they both taught at. Harry ran the drama program and taught his students with a sort of passion that Louis was equal parts envious of and completely endeared by. There was something about harry—something Louis was pretty sure everyone in the world could see. He was pure in his affections and loyal in his passions, and the kids in his auditorium were at the top of that list—right next to Lilly and Louis. 

Louis taught English, quietly encouraging his students to write in their journals every morning and spin him tales of their lives and dreams they held closest to their hearts. At night, he laid in bed next to his husband, flipping through his student’s thoughts and giggling as Harry pushed his glasses back up he nose when they slowly slipped down. 

Their life wasn’t remarkable in many ways, but it was remarkable to Louis. It was more than he’d seen for himself, and maybe their story wasn’t going to be written down and devoured by readers for years to come, but Louis didn’t mind. He didn’t mind that they’d become a quiet trio in a tiny, unremarkable town. He didn’t mind that their mornings started early—so Harry had time to French braid Lilly’s hair before daycare—and he didn’t mind that they almost always ended their nights together in their bed quietly grading papers and speaking about the children they both taught. 

They’d finished school in Manchester and had gotten married before they’d sold their house and settled back into Harry’s hometown. Lilly had come along shortly after, and it was pretty basic, pretty cookie-cutter, but Louis had never minded. Those were two things he’d been pretty convinced he’d never have. They spent their summers off touring the countryside in the 27 year old caravan Harry had insisted they needed (he’d also insisted that it was perfectly reasonable to fall in love with inanimate objects) (he’d named the caravan Julia). 

Louis could honestly say, without a shadow of a doubt that Harry had given him more than the life he’d dreamed of. He’d given him love in a time when he’d felt least deserving of it. He’d changed his views on everything, he’d bridged the gap between Louis and his family and he’d given him life when Louis hadn’t even known what he wanted. There wasn’t a question as to whether their life was why Harry wanted. Louis didn’t bother with that sort of self-indulgent kind of insecurity. Harry had been nothing but transparent and had loved Louis through every bump in the road without an ounce of hesitation. 

Louis had stopped keeping track of the things Harry had given him, of the times when he’d seen Louis through the darkness because it wasn’t about keeping score. It was about the vow they’d taken and Harry had been there for the better and for the worse—but so had Louis. He’d been there when Robin had passed away and held Harry through the night while he cried as one of his favourite students had been diagnosed with leukaemia. Life hadn’t been simple, despite how easy Harry had made it for them to be together. There had been hurdles that had for the most part just brought them closer together. 

When Louis thought about the things they had—a house, a life, a marriage that he was pretty certain could survive the apocalypse—it almost seemed like too much. It seemed like the universe had made up for lost time with him. He’d been given good thing after good thing and while there had been a few stumbles along the way, it had all been worth it. And just when he’d been certain the universe had given him more than anyone else had ever gotten, his world had opened up even more. His heart had duplicated itself (because his first heart was and always would be just for Harry) and Lilly had come around and saved him again (his second heart was for her and only her). There hadn’t ever been a question with Harry. Harry’s life-long dream had been to be a father and Louis would have given Harry whatever he’d asked for. Louis’ own experience with families had been...complex. He hadn’t known that there was two things that he’d been put on the earth for. First was to love Harry, but second and most pleasingly beautiful was that he’d been made to be Lilly’s dad. Every single morning she woke up with a smile on her face and kissed both of her dad’s cheeks and asked them what they were going to do today. Even at four in the morning when she was screaming at the top of her lungs about not wanting to go back to sleep, she was the light in their life. She was everything he’d never known he’d need. 

Maybe Louis had saved himself, maybe he’d fought tooth and nail to just be able to accept that this could be his life, but if he’d saved himself? It had been for this, for Harry and Lilly. He’d had to remake himself to give them the life they deserved. 

 

Louis collected his briefcase and made his way toward the auditorium, a smile in place (as it usually was). As he walked through the main doors, his eyes fell on Harry instantly. There, in the centre of the small stage was Harry in all his drama-teacher glory. He was laying on his side, his feet together and his arms pressed tightly against him. He writhed back and forth, wriggling along the stage and declaring at the top of his lungs “I am a tapeworm!”

Louis’ smile only grew as Harry continued to act out how he imagined life as a tapeworm to be. His students were gathered around him, some laughing and others looking embarrassed for him. Louis was delighted. This was exactly Harry’s element. Kate, a math teacher sidled up next to Louis’, laughing at his husband’s display. 

“He’s all yours” she joked,  “you picked him”

Louis didn’t look away from where Harry was now getting to his feet. His students all piled in around him as he said his parting remarks. As they began to file out of the auditorium, Harry looked up and caught Louis’ eyes, a fond smile on his face. 

“Nah, he picked me,” said Louis, returning Harry’s smile. 

And he had. Harry had picked Louis and Louis had picked Harry and they’d created a truly beautiful life together, despite their fumbling start. Louis wouldn’t want it any other way, though, because any less perspective might have made him get used to the beauty in front of him—and he never wanted to really get used to it. He wanted to cherish it, just like he had for the past decade. He’d never grow tired of his husband’s foolish antics and he’d never take a single moment of their life together for granted. It was remarkable in all the most unremarkable ways. 

 

The Actual End.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write more because I really honestly love these characters so much and I've been writing them for 8 months of my life and I don't want to let them go....but its time. I don't want to overkill anything. So, if you have more questions about anything in the story or any ends that you feel I haven't tied up...you won't find the answers here. Feel free to send me a message on instagram @feels.like.home01 or on Tumblr make-thisfeellikehome and I will write you a little something there. 
> 
> I love you all, and I've loved every second of writing this story and I hope that you enjoyed reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it. Subscribe to me if you're interested because I have ideas for about a half dozen one shots I'm going to start working on. 
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, if you read this whole thing, THANK YOU. Everyone who has commented has given me the drive I needed to finish this monster and I hope you all enjoy Louis and Harry's happy ending as much as I did. They really deserved it. 
> 
> Love, love, love you all!


End file.
